Scrolls vs Souls
by Leider Hosen
Summary: Following yet another pointless flamewar between the Chosen Undead and Dovahkiin, Morrowind and the Slayer of Demons force their children into opposite worlds to gain a new perspective in life. Warning: contains personal opinions and very bad humar X3
1. Shit hits the fan

A/N: Yes, Yes, the next King of Ruin chapter is being delayed- but I'll do it soon, would be doing it today but I got hit with a massive bolt of inspiration for something that's been tempting me a long time, especially after that abominable half-light studio video…

To make one thing abundantly clear- Leider loves Skyrim. Yes, tis' a blasphemy without pardoning in these parts, but Elder Scrolls got me into the RPG genre- had I not played it, I would've never discovered Nier, Amalur, Dark Souls, or all the other RPG's I know and love today. Sadly, I don't play it anymore- after I started playing Dark Souls, it just lost its flavor and stopped being fun- especially since I left off on my fourth character, sixth playthrough, and over 700 hours of gameplay over three years X3

Yes, I loved Skyrim every bit as much as I love Dark souls now, so parody this may be, it is also a tribute to everything I loved in Skyrim and all the crazy times I had shedding my casual self to play Dark Souls.

Oh, and to make one thing clear- this is completely so totally not written in the format and inspiration of Dark lols II by ASouffleToServeTwo- though, his is kinda cool so I'd check that out to X3

I have no idea if I'm good at writing humor or not- you may laugh to tears or scoff at my pathetic ramblings at your leisure, but whatever you review, please let it be honest, thank you :3

…

At a little known inn at a little known corner of a little known world, there is a place where shit was happening with a game of game avatars and stuff-

At a table, there a sat a rather morose, extremely depressed knight in the armor of an Astoran knight, slumped over the table with the faint candlelight flickering from his stunning steel armor, lifting the visor occasionally to take a massive swig of wine-

"So- fucking- depressed." He muttered to himself, as the door to this lesser known inn place of sorts was blown open. I twas then, the sworn enemy to this knight swaggered in- a hot babe in each arm- the distinctive leather and horned helmet marking him as the one, the only-

"Dovakiin is here, bitches!" He announced, everyone getting giddy with excitement as he swaggered on in the most swag and arrogant way possible- the knight feeling his blood boiling over in rage, "Yes, that's right!" he announced again, "The greatest and strongest hero in all the land is-" it was then he got belted over the head with the most 133t throw of them all- the wine glass exploding against his indestructible flesh so hard- a miniscule chunk of his lifebar was taken down, though he was playing on "Super Duper Easy" mode and recovered instantly-

"_Shut- the fuck- up_!" the knight roared, flipping the table. Dovakiin locked eyes with the extremely aggressive and ragey knight- hardened by hours and hours of ludicrous deaths, it could only be-

"Chosen Undead!" Dovakiin bit back, "What are you doing here?"

"I was taking a holiday waiting for Demon's Souls II/Beast Souls!" he snapped, "but now that you're- here- I suddenly- have- the urge- to- _flame_!" his hands erupted into duel chaos fireballs- getting knocked on his overly sensitive ass by a giant, even manlier knight clad in fluted mail with two wicked looking greatswords- one black and one white-

"_Enough_!" he boomed, the force of his ultra-hardcore voice breaking the windows and glass, blowing Zelda's skirt up a bit, "Every time! Every fucking time!"

"I agree," I rough, dark, rather old but incredibly wise elf spoke with his own son at his side, a knight in rather cartoony but tough armor. The two older knights regarded eachother coldly-

"Morrowind, Oblivion." The slayer of demons, muttered,

"Demon Slayer." The elder game replied evenly. But, today, they were more interested in getting their pigheaded boys to Jolly Co-operate, so they were sat down at a table to talk their feelings over:

"I just don't get it!" Dovakiin spat, "You make such a huge attempt to attack me every time you see me, I get mentioned, anything! Are you some kind of a crazy person!" the chosen undead curled his lips with nothing short of pure contempt,

"You have it_ so_ easy: you get to be the great hero- everyone loves you and your enemies are such fucking pushovers, you even get to _fucking _pause for godsakes-"

"Hey," the Dragonborn retorted, putting his hands defensively on his chest, "Haven't you heard of legendary difficulty- it's like- legendary!"

"Oh please, you wouldn't survive the fucking _tutorial _level of Lordran!" He roared, slamming his hands on the table, "and don't even- get me- started- on Anor Londo!" there was an elegant but sinister laugh, the knight looking over at a bar across the room and seeing a great, gold armored lion knight with his spear leaned against the table by a pair of silver knights- their great, golden bows impaled in the ground-

The chosen undead slunk down- feeling his undergarments grow uncomfortably warm- until Demon Slayer looked Ornstein in the eye- the gold knight launching himself out the door- his spear leaving a scorch mark across the floor, the infamous archer duo cowering behind the bar counter in terror-

This was, afterall, the guy that defeated dragon god, the false king, Flamelurker, and Mr. Octopus Head.

The two younger RPG's went back at it, Dovakiin snickering to himself,

"See what I mean? A pair of archers- stopping you dead?" he laughed, "You get your ass kicked by everything! Git gud bro!" his snickering was silenced by the bang of piano keys from Nito's theme- as played by Nito across the way on a giant Grand Nito Piano- the chosen undead laughing in truly demonic and slow fashion that made the dragon slayer start chugging power buffs like no tomorrow-

Until he was whacked upside the head by Demon Slayer-

"Don't worry son- stay classy. He can't help the fact he doesn't understand _real _men -"

"Excuse me!" Oblivion shouted, "Skyrim is much harder than you give it credit for, why, have you even _seen_ our magicians!" Morrowind put a hand on his shoulder,

"Let it go, we'll solve nothing arguing this way."

"I agree," the demon slayer concurred, putting his massive pride and ego aside for the sake of peace with the rival family. They all paused, the younger boys silent as their learned parents looked to eachother, nodding mysteriously-

"Crossover." Demon Slayer boomed, Morrowind nodding,

"Crossover."

"What!?" the chosen and dragonborn exclaimed simultaneously, but their elders had already made up their minds, going so far to complete eachother's sentences-

"You're going to Lordran, scrub- to learn what I means to be a _real _man-"

"And you shall visit Skyrim, and see we can't be written off so easily-"

"You'll be set to level one: no powers, no weapons-"

"Just your skills-"

"Like _real men_!" It was a terrible idea that was guaranteed to end horribly, but it appeared they had little choice in the matter and they were each hauled out- kicking and screaming- by the parent of their rival- The Chosen Undead digging his sword into the ground and gouging the floorbords-

"But it's so- casual! I'll get bored to death I'll- I'll turn into- a- _a scrub_!" while dovakiin spammed Fus Ro Dah! At the slayer of demons, though his poise was 9000.1 and he shook it off effortlessly-

"You think you can scrub me with your scrub magic, boy?" He chuckled, making every princess in the room faint, "By this time tomorrow- you'll know and love heavy armor- scrub."

And thus, the most retarded thing I ever done wrote began…


	2. Now Entering: Video Game Hell

Somewhere outside Helgen-

* * *

The horses were making plenty of noise as they clopped down the road, a group of random prisoners, Ulfric Stormcloak, and a very, very angry knight sitting in a carriage bouncing down the road- no doubt wondering what name and form he would take in this glossy, casual world while the prisoners bantered back and forth about things he really didn't give a shit about.

They came through the city gate, the Chosen- er- the Dragonborn spotting a great man upon a horse-

"I'm going to kill that guy later-" he thought to himself, since he clearly looked like a royal guy in high position of power and that was kinda the chosen- er- _was _the dragonborn's thing.

They stopped, the prisoners getting let off the back and walking towards a rather bitchy commander, who was currently shouting at prisoners- a guy tried to run, and was mercilessly shot down, the new dragonborn smiling-

"Guess this place has _some_ good points" Finally, it was his turn, the lady's manservant- person- asking him to identify himself-

A dazzling array of- not just nationalities but species flashed over his vision- oh, and they received customs powers and abilities- that was interesting-

Furry, red guy, wood elf, dark elf, cunt elf- finally, he thought getting resurrected as a ham elf (also known, as Orc) was a good idea- super strength and seven foot height for the win-

"Who, are you?" he thought it over a moment, already getting acquainted his new, super buff, limey green body that towered over them- though he was still pissed off. Pissed off. Pissedoff…

"I am Pistoff! And I will eat your babies, casuals!" he shouted. struggling against the ropes holding him- which somehow had unbreakable strength as sweat rolled down his brow- "I can break these cuffs-" they just stared at him in mixed amusement and confusion as he fought desperately to escape his binds- flames erupting from his body as his eyes glowed with the wrath of a furious god (though he was exiled to level one) finally getting bored and sighing- "I can't break these cuffs."

"Um- okay." He checked the list, "Sir, he's not on the list!" Sweet-

"Fuck the list, he goes to the block!" Shit-

* * *

Meanwhile, in Lordran-

* * *

Dovahkiin sat in his cell- teary eyed-

"Why- can't I open the door…" he sniffed, unable to figure out how to get anything to work- just then, a body flopped through the roof- the dovahkiin instantly running to the corpse and snating a key off the body, triumphantly opening the door and feeling immense pride swell in his bosom-

"I did it! I figured it out!" he grinned. His body was reincarnated into a great Thorolund knight- whose strength would be more than great enough to crush all before him-

He ran up to a sad looking mummy smashing his head on the wall- and did a 360 no lock-on spin and beheaded him in one hit with his broken sword (he didn't take the time to notice he had none of the weapons he was shown at the start) laughing as he swept down the hall and killed everything with the force of his overwhelming power of righteous might, discovering he could do all kinds of nifty things like roll, throw his arm to the side (though the purpose of such a move was completely alien to him), and even manipulate the laws of physics to pull people in front of him and stab them in the back (his most favoritest move)

He climbed out of the hole- walking into the fresh sunlight and laughing-

"This is too easy! I don't even need to change the difficulty, I'm unstoppable." He immediately saw a great big door and kicked it open- "Prepare your ass: the chosen undead is-" he stopped midsentence- his heart filling with fear and pants filling with urine as a shadow fell over him-

A twenty foot tall- portly blue monstrosity holding a hammer that would make the giants cry in their sleep- a black tophat sitting lopsided on his muscly face with a monocle over one his deep set eyes-

"Welcome to Lordran," he greeted cheerily, "I shall be your tutorial fight this fine av'ning." The chosen undead gulped hard-

"It's just the tutorial- it's just the tutorial-" the demon took his pinky off the shaft of his cane/hammer- the chosen was then instantaneously obliterated off the face of Lordran with a tremendous sweep-

* * *

Back at the cell-

* * *

The chosen undead materialized- feeling a little drained of spirit- before he realized all his souls were gone- it was then he uncovered the nightmarish- terrifying truth-

"You don't keep stuff when you die-" he trembled in horror.

* * *

Helgen- again…

* * *

Pistoff was drug to the block- his head put down for the chopping. There was a faint roar, the legate shouting for everyone to hold their positions, the executioner towering over him-

"Oh, nice axe-" he mumbled, starry eyed-

"Oh- um- thank you!" he replied, setting his axe down, "I just got it polished last week- can't have a dull head-chopper."

"Yeah!" Pistoff exclaimed, "I had a black knight axe at home, can I get one like that?"

"Sure- you can make anything you want with the proper tools."

"You can _make _weapons?"

"Enough!" Rikka shouted, "I want his head chopped off now!" Pistoff rolled his eyes,

"Women."

"I know right?" the executioner replied, raising his axe- right as a great black dragon with burning red eyes landed- shouting into the sky and raining meteors and fiery death over the land, knocking the new dragonborn from his spot

Suddenly- the former chosen undead's head went into a vice- I'm talking serious, LSD, post-traumatic shit as a single name came into his mind-

"K-K-Kalameet- I killed you." He mumbled- his horrific fear for dragons numbing his brain as the black dragon cocked his head, before roaring-

"All will fear the burning wrath of Alduin!"

"Kalameet!"

"No, Alduin!"

"Kalameet!"

"_Alduin_!"

"Kalameet!" the god-dragon of chaos facepalmed, flying from his rest and heading off to burn more people. Finally- Pistoff stood up, looking around at the burning apocalypse around him, the countless dying in agony- and had a sigh of relief-

"Finally! This I can handle," he spotted a weapon sitting on the ground- the executioner's axe, reaching towards its sublime blade-

His restraints stopped him again- the ropes unyielding-

"_Dammit!_"

* * *

Undead Asylum- after 60 failed attempts to kill the fanciful Asylum demon, who got bored and stopped for tea time- the dovahkiin still unable to kill him even as he casually sipped his honey and ginseng-

* * *

The Dovahkiin- I mean chosen undead- was spat out of the bonfire for the tenth time (the other fifty sent him to the asylum cell), the enraged warrior kicking the sword impaled in the ashes that was the bonfire-

"What the fuck!" he shouted, "This is impossible, how am I supposed to kill him without any weapons, this is bullshit!" finally, he tired out and sat down, noticing an orange streak on the ground-

He inspected it, and words appeared: _Be wary of door behind demon_

"_Oh-_" he said, the information sinking in. he ran back into the area, using his pro quick leaping skills to get around the demon, who had a little trouble turning- "You thought you had me- the hero of Skyrim- bested!" he boasted, running to the big blue door and resting a hand on the handle, "So long, bitch!"

He gave a triumphant pull on the door- it didn't budge.

"You need the key, mate!" the demon called, dangling the enormous pilgrim's key before him,

"Um- can I have it. Please?" the demon cocked his head, then laughed joyously, the chosen undead nervously joining in-

* * *

Back at the bonfire- again

* * *

He emerged in a rage, stomping towards the orange streak, only to see a second orange streak next to the first: _wrong door, dumbass_

The chosen undead screamed, "Dammit! How am I supposed to find the door, it doesn't make any sense this is so stupid!" Third orange streak appeared by the second, the chosen undead inspecting it and finding a Google Map from a gps locater- little red dots marking the path around the demon to the door to the left with a giant red X and set of arrow pointing to the exit

"Ah, now we're getting somewhere!" he grinned, nodding in approval, before following the instructions and getting past the demon try one like a fucking pro boss master.

* * *

Helgan- now getting its ass kicked by Alduin

* * *

Pistoff ran through the burning village- trying not to get too freaked out by the black dragon flying around, though Pistoff was still pissed off that he couldn't get his fucking hands untied so he could get a weapon and start slashing the place up-

Finally he got to a guard tower and hid in there with several others,

"Holy shit! That was a dragon, but they are just legends!" it was then the manly Blonde man- Ulfric, looked up-

"Legends don't burn villages." Everyone in the whole room, even Pistoff swooned at his paragon of manly voices, a 4chan ridden demon springing up-

"Legends- they don't burn down-" his sentence was never finished- Ulfric appearing behind him and snapping his neck with a single pinky, judo-chopping him half for good measure.

"Who- are you." Pistoff sighed, this uber warrior looking at him with bemused interest and whipping out a card from his back pocket-

"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm. Certified Viking."

"You- are- the master: untie me so I may vanquish all your enemies by your side!" he and his blue cloaked groupies all laughed in unison-

"Of course not!" they chortled, "You're a stupid Orc- a pig elf, and _nobody _loves elves in these parts." Their laughter died as Pistoff's eyes lit with the hatred of a thousand lifetimes (which he actually Lived)-

"_If it takes a thousand years you will pay for this transgression_-"

"Um-" they tugged at their collars, changing the subject, "Well, we should probably leave town now, let's go." They ran to the top of the tower- when the fearsome black dragon Kalameet smashed down the wall and crushed them all- except Ulfric, who ninjad back to the base of the tower- allowing Pistoff to jump through the gap- landing him on his feet-

"Wait-" he exclaimed, attempting to roll- though his feet were inexplicably stuck to the ground- "No rolling!? How do I fucking evade, then?"

"I don't know-" a deep, deathly voice ground out- "But you can find out, right now." Pistoff pinched his legs together, looking into the face of death itself-

He ran as the flames burned at him, Pistoff diving behind a wall and panting in terror-

Too bad he didn't have an estus flask- and even if he did he couldn't _fucking use his hands- or roll!_

"Stupid casual game- stupid Bethesda, stupid-" it was then the dovahkiin noticed his wounds were spontaneously healing- the wounds closing themselves and patches of burned flesh mending with the angelic chorus from Team Fortress 2 accompanying his uncanny recovery. Before he knew it, he was fully healed and shaking off the last of his fatigue-

"Okay, so I tank all the damage- have no advanced combat skills- and heal by running around like a fucking retard." He shrugged, "Meh- I'll allow it, but that doesn't mean I like it." the dovahkiin then ran further on, until he came to junction with a blue guy and a red guy-

"Come on!" the red one said, "We need to get to the keep!"

"No, no, no!" the blue one said, "_We _need to get to the keep!"

"STFU rebel slime, the prisoners needs to come with me."

"After you tried to behead him, hardly! Who else are we going to fill with propaganda and send to their death?"

"Man slut!"

"Imperial bastard…" their conversation faded from the Dovahkiin's attention as he looked from one to the other as the Infamous Matrix kicked in-

"Hmm- the imperials did try to chop my head off, and bound my fucking hands which is really annoying, but on the other hand- the rebels are racist assholes- but their boss is so badass…"

* * *

The Asylum, a little past the demon

* * *

Alright, now that I got past the demon, I can get back to doing what I do best: kicking ass!" the Dovahkiin- I mean chosen undead- swaggered out the doorway- and was promptly shot in the head and died.

* * *

The Asylum- the bonfire a little past the demon

* * *

"Son of a bitch! Stupid trial-and-error gameplay!" he ranted, going back out the door and evading the arrow, spotting a helpful orange streak on the ground next to a shield:

_Step 1: Grab the shield to block the arrows _

_Step 2: run up and get the sword on the ground _

_Step 3: ? _

_Step 4: Profit! _

"Now this guy's speaking my language!" he exclaimed, doing just that and killing the archer with an ultra-133t backstab with his broadsword, "Haha! I'm the best gamer that ever lived!" he then rounded the corner- going up the stairs and getting flattened by a boulder, though he managed to survive, got back up, and pwned the boulder roller.

But lo, did he go to the door and find it locked tight- returning down the steps and seeing a nifty hole in the wall- going down the other set of stairs of unlocking the shortcut to the bonfire from the inside-

"Aha!" the dr- I mean chosen undead exclaimed, "I'm getting _so _good at this! Now I just have to find the key to get to floor two!"

* * *

Many, many, many hours later…

* * *

"What the fuck!? I don't get it!" he ranted, "How the fuck am I supposed to find the key if I don't even get a hint as to where it is? There's no map, quest marker, or anything- this is fucking ridiculous!" An orange note appeared on the ground- a tear going to the dovahkiin's eye as he read what his bestest friend ever had to say: _tis'in the fawkin' hol- ye twit!_

The chosen undead went to the second floor of the asylum, spotting a knight crippled against the wall after brilliantly deciding to check the hole-

"Oh- you're no-"

"Boring!" he shouted, "do you have the key or what?" the knight scrub coughed, a little blood coming out,

"We- yes- but I'm dy-"

"Oh, gimme!" the chosen undead attempted to crouch- but it felt like his legs were welded open- the joint cracking and causing him much anguish as he attempted to bend at the knee, but alas- it was impossible to sneak or pickpocket, the unholy nightmare of such a revelation chilling the bones of the former casual.

"Oh, you're so going down!" he shouted in misdirected rage, readying his sword to take down the annoying knight-

A sword arching with lightning was rammed through his back- a nightmarish power beyond comprehension completely crushing his insides with the force of the backstab- he withdrew his blade, the dragonborn looking up to the red, dark creature before him-

"Nobody slays Oscar the fateless one-" he growled, supreme rage dripping from his phantom teeth, "What is your name, _scrub_." He growled, the weight of the blasphemous word beyond doubt-

"I am-" he coughed, "Death Scythe Peter, my fans call me- DSP" (yes, I went there)

"Well, DSP- you're going to hear every last word he has to say and you will remember it, because the beautiful and intricate lore of the story- beyond your meager brains processing power- demands it." never had DSP seen one so dramatically devoted to a world, but one thing stood out to him above all others-

"How- did- you sneak up on me?" he raised his hand, a swag grey ring with a curled dragon emblem radiating with power-

"Slumbering Dragoncrest Ring, though you'll never get _your_ hands on it." The Dragonborn then realized another horrifying fact, as the red phantom knelt before Oscar:

"Tell it to me again." He insisted, near weeping, "Your family history- creed- and the blessed fate of the undead."

"Yes," he nodded, "I see you are truly worthy- therefore I will give you the full unabridged edition- the one that was so intricate and gloriously detailed two of the editors died before it was completed."

"And we shall listen…"

"No, anything but that-" the chosen undead moaned as the long, boring speech began…

* * *

Meanwhile, in Helgan Keep

* * *

Hadvar and the new Dragonborn, Pistoff, stood in the keep- recovering from the mayhem outside. It was a tough choice, but in the end, it all rested on one pivotal point: the imperials had more hot females then the stormcloaks- actual females- that weren't mutated abominations like Quelaag- especially crucial since the chosen undead once got very, very drunk and woke up the morning after with third degree burns where third degree burns should _never _be and a hell of a paternity suit filed to Pardoner Oswald.

So the orc now stood, looking about, when Hadvar said- "Alright, we need to escape-"

"Yeah, no shit." He growled

"But first, let's get you out of those binds."

"Sweet jeezus finally!" the orc exclaimed, backing up and letting Hadvar undo his binds. Pistoff finally got to stretch his lean arms, promptly giving hadvar the mother of all ungodly uppercuts and blowing him through the ceiling, a tiny sliver of health disappearing as he fell back to the ground, "sorry, too much repressed killing power-" Pistoff growled, flexing his powerfull muscles.

"That's okay-" he coughed, "I get this- all the time." He stood up, "there are plenty of weapons and armors to choose from in here, you get something to defend yourself with and let's go!"

"_Yes_!" he bellowed, "Now we're getting somewhere." He threw open all the chests finding-

The Dovahkiin held up a meager leather tunic, a pair of derpy iron swords, and a single shield-

"This is a joke, right?" Hadvar laughed uncomfortably, scuffing his foot, "I guess all the other people got to them first."

"So I can't roll, can only jump the distance of a small puddle, and to have to tank all my damage? Oh well-" he growled, "How well does the shield parry?"

"What's a 'parry'?"

"_Are you fucking serious!? _It's no wonder the dragonborn is such a casual! How do you people even fight!? Just run at eachother and swing the sword- he who has the most life wins?"

"Basically." He shrugged, Pistoff feeling the servos in his brain burning up at the stunningly limited capacity to do violence- for fucks sake what did the dragonborn even do in his free time, it certainly wasn't dueling. The chosen undead turned dovahkiin sighed, taking the duel iron swords with the leather armor and headed on in.

They reached the first set of enemies, Hadvar's eyes growing wide as saucers as the chosen dovahkiin tore them apart with sadistic rage in mere seconds- searching the bodies,

"Wait, I can take all of it?" he grinned, stripping every single enemy of all their things, "Can I sell this?"

"Um, yes- to anyone, as a matter of fact. I once heard of a farmer selling calcified weasel shit to a tailor for a full one septim."

"Alright- this is good! This is very-" suddenly, the dovahkiin stopped as he picked up a wooden plate, falling to his knees as he strained forward, feeling his joints howling in pain- "Wait- cruel wizardry is this?" he groaned in agony, glancing at the wooden dish in his hand.

"Well- you're just one man, you can't carry _everything_." It was then an old, dark phrase came to Pistoff's mind from his father- a dark and disturbing nightmare of an implication:

"Item encumbrance-" he growled banefully.

* * *

Back in Lordren, after a really long and intricate lore speech…

* * *

"And that," Oscar finished, "Is why the fire is fading, and only dark remains, and why you must fight as you do- the answers to life, the universe, and everything." The dickwraith clapped his hands jubilantly, the chosen undead dragging himself upright and wondering if it was finally over-

"Can I go, now?"

"Yes", Oscar finished, handing him a key and estus flask, "may-" there was a sonic boom as the sound barrier was utterly shattered, DSP flying up the stairs, unlocking the door, and proceeding to the balcony after reading all the helpful orange streaks- his hand feeling so joyously held by all the wonderful advice.

He then poised himself at the top of the balcony, looking down on the Asylum demon as his tophat listed in amusment, readying his ultimate plunge attack-

"And now-" he growled, waggling his hips like a cat, poising for the kill, "I'm going to come down on your head and kick your ass, and their isn't a goddamn thing you can do-" before he could even register what happened- the asylum demon was in his face, his monocle gleaming mischievously-

"Better luck next time, old sport-" he greeted, crushing him along with the entire balcony…

* * *

The Torture chamber, after finding some potions in barrels

* * *

They reached the torturer's chamber in minutes, and when they drew close, the torturer speaking half to himself, Pistoff was attracted to a cage with a dead wizard.

Magic- oh yes- oh god yes Pistoff would love magic-

"Oh, I lost the key weeks ago," the torturer said, "but if you want, I can give you these lockpicks, they're really easy to use and barely take any skill- just memorize the sweet spot."

"Wait, if you can just pick the door open, why bother locking it?" Pistoff stated, swiping the lockpick and busting the lock near instantly, pillaging the wizard's magical goodies.

"Oh, don't knock it too fast- them master locks are real tricky-"

"Don't care, now!" he exclaimed, raising to his feet and feeling the rush of the arcane seeping into his fingers- Pistoff grinning with absolute, psychotic glee- "Witness the supreme firepower of a magician!" he thrust his hand forward- a little puff of smoke lobbing a bundle of embers to the floor-

Everyone in the room cheered mightily, marveling at the incredible destructive power he so greatly wielded- Pistoff looking to the wall and channeling his vast reserves of lightning-

"Sunlight Spear-" he sobbed, a spark of lightning shooting from his fist and singing a tiny fly, "Sunlight spear- sunlight spear- sunlight spear-" he continued to recite, his voice cracking as he began to weep-

* * *

Lordran- After finally beating the Asylum Demon

* * *

"Yes!" DSP roared, rising his sword, "I've done it at last, the great asylum demon has been vanquished- the game is practically beaten already!" the scrub then drew the Pilgrim's key, opening the door and marching uphill- all the way the summit. Breathing in the thick mountain air- he couldn't help but be reminded of Sky-

His life turned into a living nightmare of despair as a great beast flew down in front of him, snatching him up by the claws and flying him off to gods know where. It was then- as the last, final insult to his injuries he realized a most horrifying reality-

"That- wasn't the final boss?"

* * *

A dark and spooky cave below Helgan

* * *

The duo, after killing some deadly spiders and more Stormcloaks, came to a stretch guarded by a fearsome bear, the chosen undead- dammit! I mean dovahkiin looking over at the creature, Hadvar next to him-

"Now," this is going to be a tough fight," he said, Pistoff nodding,

"Yes, especially with this casual, hand-holding, oversimplistic fighting style…"

"Now, we have two options-"

"Ranged or melee…" Pistoff nodded, "That much I know-"

"Well, yes but there is another way-"

"Another way?"

"Yes, I'll show you." Hadvar then crouched down- vanishing. The dovahkiin looked for him, but could not see him, or hear him, anything- it was beyond perfect invisibility, as though he didn't even exist-

Pistoff crouched down as well- and found Hadvar rooting around in his pack, withdrawing a PlayDemon and flitting through. The orc socked him in the face- putting the "scandalous material" back in his case as the imperial rubbed his nose, the super duper healing of the realm fixing it-

"Sorry" he smirked, "didn't even know _that _existed-"

"Fuck you!" he barked, "now do we just- sneak up on the bear- then attack it?"

"Oh no!" Hadvar laughed, "we just sneak past it altogether."

"But- that would mean we don't have to fight it."

"Yes…"

"But- we could just- walk right around it."

"Well, that's the whole point," he shrugged, the imperial hearing a low sobbing- "Are you, crying?" the orc leapt forward and embraced him, weeping openly-

"This is-" he sniffed, "The greatest place- in the whole universe-"

* * *

To be continued…


	3. Elder Dark Scrolls III: Prepare to Waifu

A/N: Pistoff lives! I started a new character (looks so badass) and after playing Skyrim for the first time in ages, I'm starting to see why I fell in love with the game in the first place- the combat is still intolerably bland and lackluster, but… oh, I'm going to put it in the chapter anyway, no point in being redundant :3

Oh, and dat speech at the end is courtesy of Hans Zimmer- Time

It is the song of gods which when listened too- unlocks the innermost recesses of the human spirit- lays bare emotions, and turns any sentence written under its influence into a shining masterpiece.

Like this one :'3.

* * *

Skyrim- the end of a spooky cave under Helgan

* * *

Pistoff and Hadvar emerged into the sunlight outside, watching for danger, the orc giving a temporary sigh of relief-

"I guess we're-"

"I am fire, I am- _death!_" the dragonborn shrieked like a little girl and hid under a rock, Kalameet flying into the distance. After an awkward pause from Hadvar, the dragonborn crept back into the open. The imperial was equally spooked,

"We need to get to Riverwood and speak to my uncle Alvor- he can help us!" he insisted, starting away and walking a good distance- only to turn and find the dragonborn frozen in place- his eyes swelled in wonderment, paralyzed, "Um- are you okay?"

The word's never reached Pistoff's ears- as he was utterly absorbed-

the world was so- bright, and alive- little bunnies and majestic elk prancing around, the sound of birds replacing the sound of moans of despair- the sun was high in the sky, with nothing but tall, rolling mountains and lush forests as far as the eye could see-

Hadvar sighed, pacing around while the dovahkiin got accustomed to the shock…

* * *

Firelink Shrine- one ride on a giant ass crow later

* * *

The chosen undead hit the ground with the force of Sputnik as the crow dropped him from the sky- crumpling on the ground before pulling himself up, going face to face with a dark-eyed knight sitting on a rock-

"Welcome to Lordran-" he sighed apathetically, the dova- I mean chosen undead smelling a doubter of his ultimate power, "Now that it's too late to turn back- I'd like to give you some sound advice: ring two bells, and something happens. Though you'll die long before you get there- it's going to be suicide" he laughed-

The chosen undead stabbed him in the chest-

"You picked the wrong guy to insult, bitch!" he laughed, turning around-

finding the dark warrior- DSP swung his sword again- the knight launching his shield out at a speed that completely defied human anatomy to knock DSP's sword aside- stepping in and ramming his own sword deep into the chosen undead's chest-

"_Now that's just embarrassing, how'd you let me do that to you_?" he laughed- his eyes glowing with demonic power, kicking the chosen undead into the wall and exploding him into paste-

* * *

Firelink Shrine

* * *

The dragonborn rose from the bonfire- looking up to the crestfallen already in front of him, cracking his wrists with a psychotic smirk- the dragonborn- I mean chosen undead's eyes filling with remorseful tears-

* * *

Somewhere outside Riverwood- after the trauma subsided

* * *

Pistoff walked towards a set of standing rocks- intricate carvings painting the sides-

"What are these things?"

"They are the legendary and powerful guardian stones, you touch them to gain awesome power."

"Wait- so if I touch this rock- I will gain awesome power?"

"that's right!" the skeptical orc walked to the stone, resting his hand on the surface and feeling the strength of the gods overflowing him- a great pillar of light piercing the sky as the lightning danced over the clouds-

"I have the power!" when the light faded he- felt no different.

"Oh, the power doesn't come now," Hadvar explained, "You just learn to attack a little faster."

"Dammit." They moved on, Hadvar going white as a sheet and pointing up to a set of dark, ominous ruins made up of several black arches-

"That's Bleak Falls barrow- a treacherous dungeon full of zombies and deathtraps, I get nightmares just thinking about it-" Pistoff wrote the name and warning on his "To do" list, the duo heading into Riverwood.

Pistoff's mind started to melt as they walked into the glossy, bustling little town. The place was so- full- of- people, not a hollow, demon, octopus head, or Dragon God in sight.

This had to be a joke- it was a joke right? Compared to the nightmare of Lordran, this place was livelier than Gwynevere's Baa mitzvah when the princess got high on estus and ate her own clothes thinking they had turned to licorice in full view of everyone.

It was then he realized this must be how casuals play all the time- just basking in the radiance of-

He shook his head- proceeding forward as Alvor and Hadvar talked a little and invited him into the house, so grateful they showered him with gifts and let him use the forge-

"Wait, the forge!" the orc exclaimed, imagining all the best, most powerful tools of destruction he would soon forge- there was a request to talk to Jarl white something, but he had too many weapons on the brain to pay attention as he set to work-

* * *

Firelink shrine- DSP: 0 Crestfallen warrior: 1,000,001

* * *

"Now, who is the master?" crestfallen smirked, DSP heaped on the ground,

"Crestfallen is- the master."

"Very good." He returned to his rock, the dragonbor- chosen undead getting up,

"Now," the crestfallen said, "I will tell you where the bells are, one is up above in the church, the other is below in the ruins at the base of Bllighttown, to get to the ruins-" he stopped, looking around and finding the chosen gone- "_Oh, you have some nerve_!" he growled-

* * *

Meanwhile, in the graveyard...

* * *

The chosen undead went down the slopes past various grave markers, humming a tune-

"So, I have to go down to Blighttown? no sweat! This is definitely the right way!" he continued down the slope, looking over at a great tombstone with-

DSP's jaw dropped, sprinting over to the blade sitting in its rest- a six foot long greatsword that put the shitty steel models of Skyrim to shame. He lifted the colossal beast of a weapon-

"Now- I'm the master!" DSP shouted triumphantly- a little too loud and a little too triumphantly- for he was met with a strong retort-

"Yo, look what we got here!" he stated, "It looks like we got ourselves a scrub in the wrong neighborhood!" DSP turned, finding an army of skeletons had risen, facing him down-

The dragonborn bust out laughing- the skeletons, sporting scumbag hats and several gold chainz round their bare necks looking less than amused-

"You pussies think you can fuck with me! The dragonborn?" he continued laughing, "Alright, time to take you down." He hit the lead skeleton firm in the torso, collapsing it instantly- only for it to rise just as instantly-

"Oh hail naw!" he shouted, "You fuck with me, you fuck with the whole crew! Yo' Stew, get yo' dumb ass in here!" suddenly, a colossal skeleton, its jaw hanging open, peaked in from around the wall-

"Nur? Neeeeur!" he drawled, shambling around the corner, "Hello evry'budy!" he laughed, dragging a sword the size of a phone booth behind him.

The dovahkiin was vaguely intimidated by the daunting Stew, until he drew the all-powerful force that was the Zweihander-

"Prepare to die, motherfucker!" he drew the mighty blade behind his back and thrust forward- a loud crunch sounding- the chosen undead didn't more or even breath a moment, tearing up as his arms broke off and wriggled around on the ground- the skeletons laughing-

"His pussy ass can't even swing an ultra greatsword- that's some funky ass shit yo!"

"Bye bye!" Stew waved, crushing the unarmed chosen under his retarded strong blade-

* * *

Meanwhile, in scenic Riverwood…

* * *

"Yes!" Pistoff declared lifting his creation, "I have forged a powerful new weapon!" it seemed a little- wrong- though: the leather on the guard shoddily looped together, and the hilt was crooked, and the blade was warped and uneven- "Alright- I may need more practice. Be gone with you!" He shouted, throwing the worthless sword away from him-

"Camilla shall be mine!" Sven the douche shouted,

"No she shall be mine!" Foendal the not-so-douche elf shouted back,

"I will-" he was then murdered by the derpiest sword this side of Tamriel- the lopsided blade cutting him in two and flying into the treeline like a boomerang, many pine trees falling as fire and the sounds of chaos erupted all around the quiet town of Riverwood-

"Wait- come back-" the orc murmured, shedding a tear of pride for his glorious, malformed creation.

* * *

Firelink shrine

* * *

The crestfallen watched as DSP resurrected, sighing,

"Alright, as I was saying, the ruins of Blighttown are located in-" the chosen undead was gone again- "Why do I even bother- I've already divided. I am simply- _crestfallen_." He sighed- when suddenly a hole was torn in the fabric of space time-

"DAAWWW! I WUB YOU CRESTFALLEN HAVE MUH BABBIES RIGHT NAO!"

"How many times do I have to tell you people…"

* * *

Meanwhile, in the New Londo ruins...

* * *

DSP exited the lift, looking at the field of noobs and deprived before him. It was a town, and it definitely was pretty blighted- blighted with water LAWL!

"Now this is- without any doubt- the right direction!" he stated, slicin' and dicin' all the deprived to pieces, "yeah, this is piss easy compared to that OP asylum demon- even the gangster skeletons won't be so bad later on! And here I was starting to think Lordren was nothing but butt-" he was then halted by a pair of alluring, transparent ladies hovering midair- trailing thin wisps marking them as ghosts-

"Hello there-" one greeted smoothly, "So glad you could visit-"

"Yes-" the other giggled, "we haven't seen a man since the sealers flooded the abyss 19,000,000,000 years ago. Care to join us?"

"Oh, ERM…" the dovahkiin awkwardly shifted, "that does sound nice- hold on a second-" DSP reached into his pack and pulled out his reading glasses- putting them on and- "By the nine!" he shrieked -

"Aww- just leave the glasses off- it'll be fun." They giggled,

"Thank you but I will be going now-" he turned about and started away, _and I thought argonians were ugly-_

His shoulders bumped the blades of two curved knives- the maidens jerking him back with her improbably long arms-

"Oh, so that's how it's going to be- have at thee foul temptresses!" the chosen undead shouted, stabbing them all up with his broadsword- afterall, ghosts were just re-textured bandits, he'd killed tons!

Though- his flailings grew slower and slower as he realized- they- really- weren't- taking any damage whatsoever, the blade going through them like air-

His sword arm fell limp as they crowded in-

"_Help-_" he squeaked-

* * *

Meanwhile, Back in Riverwood…

* * *

The new dovahkiin, after trying his hand at a few more swords, finally got himself ready to go on an adventure- but he didn't want to go talk to the boring Jarl about boring things- no- it was off to epic Bleak Falls Barrow bitch! (my favorite dungeon in the game- so many memories :3 )

As he headed down the road, Pistoff heard a racket and opened the door to the local shop- promptly getting smashed the face by a steel pot as the room was torn apart in a frenzy of violence not even the gods had seen before-

"I don't give a fuck what chu want, you ain't fighting zombies on my watch!"

"Excuse me you little bitch!? I ain't bound to shit! Especially you!" they continued the riot of destruction- the dovahkiin raising his hand-

"um- excuse me-" suddenly, everything stopped dead and the place was spotless-

"Oh, how may we help you, valued customer?" they greeted fondly, he looked from one to other-

"Husband and Wife?"

"Brother and Sister."

"Gotcha." He shrugged, the entry rather normal. Lucan looked him over,

"Hey, you love to kill things right?"

"Yep- I'm all about destruction, just give me the place and the thing." Lucan pointed to a rather empty looking spot-

"Some gang ran in and stole this big, golden dragon claw, get it back and we'll give you bountiful rewards." Pistoff's interest was officially piqued-

"How bountiful?"

"About a hundred septims, and everything from the store."

"So, the claw?"

"No."

"Those really rare and powerful potions?"

"Hell No." the dovahkiin sighed,

"The expendable junk I'll likely never use or care about?"

"Of course!" he nodded, "anything for the return of our beloved and irreplaceable artifact."

"Well-" Pistoff was going up the mountain to the epic dungeon anyways- and their wasn't much to do beyond chores for the locals from what he heard, "Alright- but I'm going to need a much greater reward if you want _my_ loyalty, one worthy of my stature as a mighty-"

"You may take my sister as your first waifu!"

"_SOLD!_" the former chosen undead roared- having never had his very own waifu, but always wondering what it would be like to have a female acquaintance that wasn't a threat to his health and safety.

And thus, he began his trek to his very first dungeon crawl for the honor of his soon-to-be waifu…

* * *

Well isn't this getting good and _staymy_- oh- and back in the nightmare fueled land of Lordran after RL34DS4Dovahkiin…

* * *

The crestfallen- after a tussle with one of his hundreds if insane fangirls (they exist- I guarantee it)- saw the chosen undead take the stairs up rather than the express bonfire crackling in front of him, which he thought was odd- until he remembered he'd returned from New Londo-

"My, my," he smirked, "look what happened to you-"

"Shut up-"

"What is that all over-"

"FUCK YOU YOU COY, DEPRESSIVE LITTLE TWAT! I AM NOT IN THE MOOD RIGHT NOW!"

"Oh, but don't you want to hear about- where the ruins at the base of Blighttown really are?" the dovahkiin collapsed before him-

"Yes- I want to go home- I want to go home so bad-"

"Alright, as I was saying- to get to the ruins at the base of Blighttown, you must go through every single level between here and the parish, then down to the lower part of the burg, then down into the base of Blighttown- unless you have that- damned master key." He grumbled, "completely destroys the fun of watching you fail- and cuts some of the best fights in the world right out."

"Will there be ghosts?" the former hero of Skyrim trembled,

"Oh no, not ghosts-" he leered- laughing darkly to himself as he envisioned the torment ahead… though he didn't want to spoil Lordran's deadly surprises.

At long last, the chosen undead was ready to actually go towards the objective, ringing the bells- for some reason…

* * *

Bleak falls Barrow, the outside.

* * *

"You've come to the wrong summit, bitch!" a lady clad in fur armor with a plain iron weapon yelled, her posse of 12 men surrounding her- "Prepare to face the wrath of the bandits!" Pistoff shook his head in amusement-

"That's cute- that's real cute."

* * *

12 seconds later, inside the main hall…

* * *

A group of bandits sat around a campfire- cooking skeever tails and swapping campfire stories, when suddenly an arrow flew from the shadows and hit one of them with so much force he was blown from his seat and tumbled across the room-

The other two jumped up, drawing their weapons and running around the room- all the fury in the world in their eyes-

"Whoever you are, wherever you hide, we will find you, and we will kill you!"

"How dare you, how dare you take the life of one of our dearest friends!"

"We will not stop until you are dead, and that's a promise!" they regrouped at the campfire, scratching their heads, before sitting back down and resuming their barbeque-

"Hey, wasn't there another guy there a moment ago?"

"Must've been your imagination."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Hey, was that dead body always in the corner?"

"I don't know- maybe?"

"Yeah…" from the far corner of the room, though they were deaf to it- Pistoff was laughing in hysteria, tears of shameless ecstasy rolling down his cheeks as he drew another arrow back…

* * *

Bleak Falls Barrow… even further in.

* * *

The dragonborn watched a tough, powerful bandit swagger over to a leaver-

"Relax bitches, I got this shit. Outlaw for life!" he shouted, pulling the lever- promptly getting shot to death with poison arrows while the dovahkiin just watched from the corner.

* * *

Bleak falls barrow- jeezus- he's like halfway through…

* * *

The dovahkiin entered a room full of webbing, a dark elf by the name of Arvil the Not-Swift-Enough-To-Avoid-A-Giant-Ass-Spider clinging to the wall, the orc rolling his eyes-

"Oh, let me guess, a giant spider is just going to drop from the ceiling and try to murder me-" suddenly, the giant frostbite spider dropped down to the ground floor, gnashing it's teeth and charging forward- the dovahkiin stopping it with the tip of his pointer finger- and leaning in-

"Git Gud." He whispered- before slicing the spider in two with a single stroke so powerful it carved a fissure up to the cieling- walking calmly over to Arvil-

"But- how did you-"

"Bitch- My dad killed a spider covered with armor that shot shards of metal coated with fire and breathed streams that would make dragons cry, my retard younger brother killed a spider covered with armor that shot motherfucking laser beams and a knocked up a scorpion that shot soul spears and burrowed, and I knocked up a spider that shot fire and was the spawn of a primordial lord: subduing arachnids is kind of a family specialty." Arvil went wide eyed-

"What- are you people?" He leaned in close,

"Gud. Reel gud." He then cut the elf down in a single stroke- "Now, just hand over the golden claw- and I can be on my-" all the dovahkiin saw was a trail of dust from the coward elf as he took off down the way-

"Haha! LAWL! Thanks for letting me down, loser!" the orc smirked to himself-

"3, 2, 1…"

"OHMUHGEEZUS! Zombies!" the familiar sound of a scrub getting rekt emanated down the halls, Pistoff closing his eyes and drinking in the screams of agony…

"And that's why I'm gud..."

* * *

Meanwhile, in scenic Undead Burg…

* * *

The chosen undead came up the hill, recking a few armor clad figures with his frightful strength. His brutal 5 hours of Lordran's, vicious, unforgiving territory had hardened him- turned him into the great warrior he knew he was-

A firebomb fell from nowhere and blew DSP's head off- sending him back to the bonfire-

* * *

Later…

* * *

"Alright, now I'm getting somewhere!" the chosen undead exclaimed, stepping through a fogwall- a massive dragon smashing on the bridge and taking off not ten feet from him-

DSP returned to the bonfire to change his undergarments soon after…

* * *

Much later…

* * *

DSP made it far into the belly of Undead Burg, reaching a set of stairs into unknown territory, his best frind- Mr. Orange Streak giving him a friendly warning: _ludicrously_ d_angerous foe ahead- don't be a dumbass...  
_

"Hmm.." DSP said, creeping down the steps, his heart getting rended by fear as saw a massive, vicious shape silhouetted in the doorway.

Finally, he steeled himself for the free XP, creeping in on the darkened figure and bringing his sword back- backstabbing him hard-

"Yes! Feel the power!" he shouted- the figure turning in place.

They locked eyes- eyes to darkened helmet, the black knight shaking his head. The former dovahkiin saw his error: he made a knight with horns angry. badasses had horns, the Deathlords taught him that much…

"Please- make it quick." DSP pleaded- the knight nodding and ramming his greatsword through the scrub's sternum, giving a proper bow as the scrub keeled over and bled to death.

* * *

Even more later…

* * *

He came to another fog wall… stepping through and timidly holding his shield before him- looking around and seeing no boss.

He took a sigh of relief- stepping forward and admiring the grand scenery as he strolled down the path-

"You know," the chosen undead said, "This place isn't so bad- maybe, I'm starting…" DSP was shot in the back, the chosen undead cursing and looking over his shoulder to a soldier with a crossbow, another holding a pair of binoculars and tallying the hits:

"Left shoulder- three points! Nicely done Jeremy!" He called, the sniper loading another bolt, and taking aim-

"Good luck hitting me again!" the scrub shouted, taking off down the way and waiting for them to shoot, though they didn't- "Just run to the end and-

Suddenly, DSP's view of the door was blocked by an enormous shape- what could only be another demon-

"Dear gods, not again." He moaned, the Taurus demon surging forward in his track shorts- an Olympic gold medal hung round his stocky neck. Needless to say, he overtook DSP quickly- the chosen undead's eyes locked on the door-

It was then the great, unsung archer hero Jeremy fired the shot of all shots- the bolt hitting the place- _the_ place- the chosen undead collapsing and tumbling to a stop as his leg buckled-

He looked down at the shot which had immobilized him-

"It's a bolt to the knee! 777 points to Jeremy!" the scrub looked over as the Taurus launched himself into the air in the mother of all slam dunks-

"Aww- _fuck_-"

* * *

Bleak Falls Barrow- the room full of Draugr with Arvil the Dead Guy

* * *

The dragonborn strode in, swinging his sword at his side and whistling pleasantly. Stealth was nice- but at the same time he couldn't help but feel a little dirty. Needless to say, his entrance roused several greyish blue zombies from their rests- the chosen undead smiling.

"Ah, the deprived- my old enemies." he readied his guard- one of the Draugr putting his arms out in front of the others,

"Don't worry- I shall banish this intruder." He said, locking eyes on the chosen undead, "They call me the revenant- stand aside or be struck down." The orc chuckled at the notion-

"Oh please, I've killed _thousands_ of hollows just like you, there's no way-" the revenant shot his hand forward, a bolt of ice piercing his shoulder- Pistoff registering- _pain_ as the revenant shot forward, his sword slashing him a few times as the dovahkiin retaliated with his own blade, the two wearing themselves down until the chosen did the dirtiest thing he'd ever done-

He put up a hand-

"Time out- I need- uh- potion." He bayed, the superpowered Draugr halting his onslaught a moment. In this world, potions could not be drunk unless combat was halted- the former chosen undead tried many times to give a good, honest sip in battle as he would an estus flask- but it didn't work. As he drunk up, the Draugr crossed his arms and looked on casually.

"These- 'hollows' you speak of-" He asked, "Do I impress you as one?" he wondered aloud. The chosen stopped chugging and shrugged,

"Nope- most hollows can't use magic- and I've never seen ice magic before. Hmm- maybe- manserpant is a better comparison?"

"Oh, is that powerful?"

"So so." Pistoff gestured, the Draugr giving a lopsided smile,

"Oh, so you like powerful enemies, then?"

"Yep."

"Then you'll love this-" he said as the chosen stopped his drinking- only to get blasted in the face with an arctic blast of power that sucked all his strength away- the revenant stepping in and ramming his gnarled black blade into the dovahkiin's heart, he leaned in, "See you next respawn." Pistoff fell in battle for the first time to this hollow-like yet intelligent and incredibly strong enemy- his first worthy adversary, worthy of a good, fair fight-

The dragonborn strode in, swinging his sword at his side and whistling pleasantly- wait what? The dragonborn realized he'd seen this before- but when he reached into his pocket, the potion was back, his health was at full. It was a 100% respawn, his death was absolutely meaningless- he would return infinitely until he killed the revenant with zero consequence.

"Well, so much for 'good clean fight'", he muttered, heading in for the rematch.

* * *

The bridge to undead Parish- after the arduous Attack on Taurus Demon

* * *

DSP drug himself through the threshold of the tower, flopping down on his stomach and panting with exhaustion. It took him forever to figure out the plunge attack- and Jeremy had wicked combat skills, but the former hero of Skyrim eventually managed it.

"If I survive this," he rasped, "I am- _never_- going to church again." He really meant it- since the only church he needed was the church of Mara to marry all his waifus.

Hey- maybe the undead parish would ship him with the waifus here! That thought drove the scrub forward, the former hero of Skyrim getting up and heading for a balcony full of sunlight-

It was then he spotted a most peculiar warrior standing in the bright- just staring at the sky. The dragonborn never really bothered with "lesser fighters" since they seldom survived that long, but in this madhouse of death and masochism-

"um- hello?" the chosen undead inquired, nudging the great warrior, who turned to him,

"Oh, hello!" he asked, "Have you come to praise the sun too?" the scrub snorted,

"No! Why would I just stare at the-" his voice trailed as he gazed at the grossly incandescent body- even more luminous than the one in Skyrim (it is- no comparison :3 )

* * *

Many, many hours of praising later…

* * *

The dovahkiin felt like his eyes were burning out- but it was worth it as he finally turned to the peculiar sun knight-

"So, can I get some hand- I mean help through here?"

"Yes," Solaire exclaimed, giving him a white sign soapstone, "just use this to leave your mark and go to other worlds- or summon phantoms from other worlds to engage in Jolly Co-Operation!" he beamed, the former hero of Skyrim cradling the item close to his heart-

"Bless you Solaire! When I get back to Skyrim, I'm making you the tenth divine!"

"Don't idolize me, idolize the sun!" he shone, reaching up to the body in the sky- the dovahkiin joining in-

* * *

Even moar hours of praising later…

* * *

Finally, the new chosen undead came through the threshold, spotting the fortress on the other side of the bridge- yes- after so long- it was finally-

A great red shape which devoured hope and shat despair came down in front of him- his wide, polarized sunglasses reflecting in the bright sun, the natural bright red of the dragon accentuated by the yellow flames painted down his spiny body-

"Sup- I'm da hellkite drake- here to say 'assholes on muh turf, no way- no how.'" he laughed, flexing his great dovah muscles. DSP shook his head, taking a confident step forward-

"Oh, if only you knew how many ancient dragons I slew-" he put his arms out, the hellkite drake cocking its head in confusion, "Well, what is it?" the master dragonslayer mocked, "Gimme' your best shot, I dare ya'!" the hellkite scumbag vaporized him on the spot, the confused dovahkiin waking up at the bonfire and smacking his head on the wall-

"Why did I do that? Why- did- _I do that!_"

* * *

One walk across undead burg later…

* * *

He reached the bridge, spotting the great hellkite drake perched on top of the fortress, baring his way forward- the scrub putting a finger on his chin and trying to figure out what to do, before running to Solaire-

"Solaire, help!" he pleaded, the knight keeping his gaze on the sun and laughing jovially,

"Tis' nothing to fear!" he said happily, "all is well in the world as long as you praise the sun!"

"But the drake is on the bridge! I can't get past it!"

"Hmm, a drake on the bridge, I must not have seen it. By the way, how's the alter of sunlight doing?"

"I havn't seen it because-" he thought a moment- hmm, without a speech skill, would lying be an instant win or instant loss?- "because the drake burned it down."

"The alter of sunlight, burned down?" he chuckled, "Really?" DSP thought a moment-

"Yes- and he- said the dickwraiths were twice the covenant you are!" there was a pause…

Then a longer pause…

"Um- Sunbro?" the warrior of sunlight turned in place- his iron grieves grinding on the stone- the eyes of his helmet black as coal- "Sunbro?" DSP asked, backing off as the warrior of sunlight stomped up the ramp towards the hellkite's lair-

The chosen undead started forward. Jolly co-operation wasn't very effective in his experience, but-

The earth shook- a massive arc of lightning breaking the sky open as time itself started to dematerialize- a massive fissure appearing in the ground as the moon started spinning backwards-

"It's the apocalypse!" DSP shouted, crying as he recalled how Alduin's rain of fire shout had nothing on this burst of raw fury that blanketed the clouds with ashes-

As fast as it appeared, it stopped- the dovahkiin peeking out and seeing Solaire brushing his hands off, the hellkite drake's smoldering body little more than a burnt fishstick-

"Praise the _SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!_" the sunbro triumphantly called, bearing his arms high aloft- the dovahkiin holding a mix of terror and awe at how ludicrously powerfully everyone _but_ him was-

Huh- imagine if he had to feel like this _all the time_, DSP laughed, he'd end up just like- the- chosen undead. Shit…

* * *

Bleak Falls Barrow- the final room

* * *

The new dovahkiin proceeded through the room, gracious to have gotten this far, although he knew that soon- he would encounter it- the final boss. Even if this world was completely scrubbish and casual- the idea of encountering a full boss horrified the former chosen undead- the monstrosities and abominations he'd seen or heard of made grown men weep with despair and quit with rage- even if he could die and be penalized by just a few minutes-

He crept up to the end of the level- already using the claw to bust thought the puzzle door (guarded by an oh so impossible riddle). Sure, he had the claw in hand, but he wanted to see what awaited him at the end of the dungeon-

Pistoff stepped up to a wall, a glowing word attracting his attention- and when he drew close- he suddenly absorbed its power, the light burning his retinas and causing him to stumble about.

"_So- fucking- bright-_" he growled uncomfortably-

Or maybe it's just been too long since he last praised the sun- hmm- that made the former chosen undead wonder how Solaire was doing-

His concentration broke when the lid of a coffin was blown off, a great Draugr with a metal helm emerging with a sword glistening with frost in one hand, and an iron shield in the other-

The ground thumped under his feet, the Draugr starting forward-

"I am the overlord!" he declared, "hear me, and despair!" as he ran in- the dovahkiin raised his hand-

"Wait wait wait- time out!" the overlord froze, looking at him in confusion,

"What is it?"

"Y_ou're _the level boss?"

"Why yes!" he declared, banging his shield, "I am the strongest denizen in this cairn- the one who strikes terror into new players!"

"So, you have a special weapon?"

"Well, no-" he admitted, shrugging, "it's a fairly basic frost enchantment, but its good when you're low level." The orc raised an eyebrow-

"Do you get your own boss theme- or name- I killed like a dozen 'revenants' they're a dime a dozen, what makes you any different?"

"I-" suddenly- he began to wonder, "but- I have the Dragon Stone!" he declared, raising the stone tablet- "I hold a vital item for a major quest- I'm the only one that has that!" Pistoff yawned,

"Yeah sure, but are you the only nameless, themeless boss who holds a vital quest item who happens to be 'the overlord'?" he froze in place, his glowing blue, undead eyes wavering, the orc smirking, "face it, you're not a 'boss'- you're just a tougher variation of the same enemy I've been fighting- yet another reason this game is so casual- _no_ creativity with its battles."

"You're wrong!" he shouted, throwing his shield at the dovahkiin- nearly hitting him-

"Hey, I'm paused-"

"I _am_ a boss monster!" he shouted desperately, "I am my own undead- not a dime a dozen creature for you to slay!"

"Then prove it," the dovahkiin snorted, "I'm getting bored to tears fighting the same old enemies, I want a _real_ boss and you're not it." The overlord clenched his fists-

"Tell me about these 'real bosses', then wait and come back." Pistoff shrugged,

"Fine by me- I can burn as much time as I want- literally! I can stand here in cryostasis at will."

* * *

One long run through of all of Lordran's, Boletaria's, and Drangleic's bosses later…

* * *

The chosen undead walked in, touching the wall and waiting for the boss to jump from his chest (which lost its luster after the tenth time he saw the other Draugr do it), but he never came out- Pistoff shrugging,

"Pussy," he sneered before making his way out-

A chill went up his spine- his vision shifting against his will- but, that could only mean-

A figure came to the top of the dragon wall- leaping down a set of fallen debris, roaring into the cave and doing the most epic ninja leap the chosen undead had ever seen, landing in front of him with his back faced to the now vaguely panicked dovahkiin-

"It's still a casual boss-" Pistoff reminded himself as the figure turned, his mannerism shifting to something Akin to the pursuer as blankets of frost begun to emanate from him following a long, low growl- "Not a causal boss- not a casual boss-" he whimpered, realizing he'd trained this once scrubbing boss far too well-

A chorus made up of other Draugr roared forth as the figure came forward, his lifebar appearing proudly across the bottom of the screen as "Keeper of the Dragon Stone" he charged forth- then just, slowed, his sword slowly going limp at his side as the keeper's impromptu theme faded-

"What's going on?" Pistoff asked, the Keeper slumping-

"I can't do this anymore." He sighed, "You have made me realize how pointless my existence is- I have no memorable traits beyond the room I'm in- the stone I keep-" he withdrew the thing from his back- looking at it sorrowfully as he sheathed his sword, before tossing the stone to the chosen undead-

"I am renouncing this fate- I will no longer be a slave to this dragon stone. I wish to have my own history- my own emotions and feelings- I wish to be remembered as a boss worthy of protecting this barrow. I refuse to be the 'overlord' anymore- I should like to have my own name, and my own powers and weapons- and become a boss truly worthy of doing battle with you.

This faint taste of individuality- this shadow of a feeling like I'm something more than a pawn of this dungeon- is still but a shadow.

I will break free- forever and for true. And so- I refuse to fight, instead, I say goodbye: take that dragon stone now- fulfill your destiny, as I shall forge my own. One day, I will meet you again- when I am worthy of being your opponent, and when we fight- there will be no question I am a true adversary.

Goodbye, dragonborn from another land- I thank you: thank you for opening my eyes to what I could truly be- for giving me the tools to reach my full potential: as a Draugr, as a warrior, as a part of this beautiful gaming universe. Now… farewell."

With that, he turned away and, with the utmost humility, drew his generic blade- admiring it one last time before letting it fall to the ground- determined to find a blade of his own…

Pistoff sweated profusely from his eyes- but only because it was so humid in this horrible- casual- scrubbish- noobish- dungeon…

* * *

To be continuuaaaaaaaaad!? ...


	4. Pains in the ass

A/N: Herro evrybuuudy!? Hur hur0 got only six hours of sleep and dint go 2 bed untillll 4am because I haz insomica hooray!

Not sure if this chapter is going to be as inspired as the last. Really, I feel this chapter at many points feels very inane, but there are a few really great moments I managed to come up with in the middle that will hopefully make it worth it, as I'm still not sure where I stand with comedy. Oh well, don't know until I try :3

Special shout out to the mysterious keyboard warrior known as "guest"- for the inspiration as the Overlord of last chapter and the final two levels of KoR devoured all my creative inspiration. It isn't exactly what was suggested, as I wanted to avoid repetition, but my alternative should suffice ;3

Also- Tanooki Suit- Lordvessal, tasteful _and_ unexpected. You get a cookie :3

* * *

Lordran- the alter of sunlight

* * *

"Ah, still here!" Knight Solaire grinned, praising by a statue of the war god, DSP hanging out at the threshold of the Alter,

"Yes, thank you for helping me out, so- how do I get to the church?" He asked, kicking at the closed gate,

"Oh, you just go back down the bridge, climb down the stairs, and take the path under the bridge, simple." He smiled, "but first, do you wish to join our magnificent covenant?"

"Hmm, any perks?"

"Oh course! Your summon sign will turn a luminous gold as a beacon for all wayfarers- and you get a nifty magic spell!" he put his catalyst out, materializing a powerful golden javelin made of lightning-The former dovahkiin laughed, remembering his young, naive days of thinking magic would be worthwhile…

"Please, magic is positively worthless! But thanks for the offer, anyways."

"Oh," Solaire sighed, "I'm sorry I mentioned It." he threw the bolt back over his shoulder-

* * *

One Michael Bay nuclear mushroom cloud of death later…

* * *

As the fallout cleared, the former Dovahkiin squinted his eyes open-

"I have seen the light- it burns." He mumbled, praying to the alter, getting the OP spell and heading beneath the bridge- spotting a conspicuous sword just sitting by the corpse of the hellkite scumbag- "Hmm, what's this?" he wondered aloud, picking the thing up and giving it a few swings-

"Hmm, that's kind of cool, but I wonder…" DSP then made a miraculous discovery as he firmly grasped his sword in both hands, realizing a one handed sword was not always one handed- and a two handed sword was not always two handed- though trying to wield the almighty zweihander or even the claymore, his littler cousin, would take quite a lot of gittin gud, "Yes, more power!" he exclaimed, giving it another swing-

Suddenly he was blown of his feet as a massive wave of power blew through the bridge, flying off into the distance- DSP discovering the improbably overpowered might of the little weapon-

* * *

Under the bridge, after discovering teh power of teh super duper Drake Sword…

* * *

DSP walked down the way, sauntering into a dark, underground chamber with his uber sword in hand.

"Yep, I can finally say I'm getting pretty good at this!" the chosen undead sighed happily, before three or four giant shapes jumped on him all at one and chewed him to death, the former hero of Skyrim's last sight before he succumbed to blood poisoning a giant rat with a little bib gnawing on his leg.

He returned to the bonfire,

"It's okay, it's _just_ a few rats, like skeevers, yeah skeevers. No problem, _no_ problem at all…"

* * *

A million years later…

* * *

The former hero of Skyrim drug himself up the ladder, collapsing to his belly and panting with exhaustion, his estus already depleted.

"What kind of- fucked up place is this?" He growled "Even the rats are nigh invincible!" He stood up, peaking from the doorway to a set of stairs, "this looks promising." He nodded, climbing the stairs and coming face to face with two archers on the high ground, a pair of spearmen, a swordsmen, and _it_-

The former dovahkiin's eyes widened as he gazed at the colossal, armored monstrosity, its eyes glowing red like hellfire-

"Well," it growled, relishing its own godlike power, "Come at me bitch."

"_Nope_!" and with that, DSP took off into the tower, looking up the winding stairs. "Much better", he sighed, climbing up-

Only to come face to face with a black knight with a sword bigger than the former dovahkiin slung over his shoulder, a baseball cap proudly tucked between his horns: Anal Rodeo Hammers, #69

DSP laughed and cried at the same time: "Why- why are you people doing this to me?" the knight two handed the onyx ultra greatsword and knocked the scrub to Boletaria and back- teabagging the mangled corpse as it disintegrated yet again…

* * *

Meanwhile, in Scenic Riverwood…

* * *

Pistoff, the former chosen undead, threw the door to the Riverwood trader open, his new Honed Ancient Nord Sword of Frost shining at his side. He gave the claw to Lucan, reveling in his accomplishment-

"There- here it is!" he exclaimed, "Now- where's Camilla!"

"Yes…" a voice hissed, the orc going stiff and slowly looking over his shoulder, into the face of pure terror, "Were is Camilla?"

"Oh she's upstairs doing lady things," Lucan shrugged, "You can just sit in your usual spot."

"Oh goodie!" the elf clapped, jumping into his seat by a stirring pot. The orc gulped,

"Who-"

"Oh, that's Faendel." Lucan said casually, "He's just a kindly elf with a friendly crush on my sister- that also happens to come into our house at his leisure and watch my sister cook and sweep the floor." The elf stared at the staircase, a smile creeping back and forth over his lips, Pistoff taking a step away from him.

"Okay, I'll just wait for my waifu to get done with her lady stuff and come down," which lead him to another thought, "Wait- you're like- thirty something, why is your hot sister still living here with you?"

"Um- err-" he stuttered, scuffing his foot, the dragonborn sighing.

"Pst-" the elf hissed into Pistoff's ear, the dovahkiin reeling, "Were you the one that killed Sven."

"Yeah- it's my thing."

"_Mine too-_" he rasped in the voice of Him (if you don't know which "Him" I'm referring too, you are unworthy), "_Now that he's out of the way- I can at last be with my love_."

"Well actually, I returned the claw, so she's my waifu, now." He stated, the elf receding away without another word-

* * *

Then, after Camilla's lady things were sorted out…

* * *

She came down the stairs, the dovahkiin approaching her- Shit- he'd never proposed to a waifu before- usually it was just a quick and dirty thing after getting beat up by a female half passable for human- okay, just had to act cool and it would be alright…

"Hey, Camilla." He mumbled, "I got your claw back- can I see you naked now?" she responded the grandpappy of all bitchslaps-

"You have some nerve, how dare you- without an amulet of Mara!"

"What? Amulet!?" he exclaimed, "What amulet, why do I need an amulet to ship-" suddenly, he froze up- Pistoff's head feeling as though it were burning up from the inside-

He'd asked a question- in Skyrim. They knew something- he didn't- there was a lore aspect he was unaware of- it wasn't right- did not compute- does not compute!

The dovahkiin then had a massive seizure and fell over-

* * *

A few days Later…

* * *

He woke up in a soft, comfy bed, leaning upright and sighing with relief-

"Gods- what a horrible nightmare." He sighed, "And to think, a bunch of scrubs almost got the best of me…"

"_Glad to hear it_." Pistoff's head slowly turned to the side, Faendel crouched eye to eye with him-

* * *

Meanwhile, at the threshold of Undead Parish…

* * *

The dovahkiin stood, face to face with the colossal monster of a boar, the thing thrashing its head. "Well, come on then." he leered, the dovahkiin finally lashing out with his drake sword-

"Take that you little shit!" DSP shouted as the energy wave smashed into the great fang boar, the thing shaking it's head a little and charging forward-

The dovahkiin ran fast, but not fast enough to avoid getting a great, bladed tusk shoved where no giant bladed tusk should be shoved- the dovahkiin flying into the air before falling back, the boar stomping the literal crap out of him before kicking him away, DSP getting shakily to his feet as the boar scuffed his foot, laughing-

"I am the mighty fang boar! I cannot be destroyed, I- am undefeatable!" he ran in, the former dovahkiin shrieking and leaping to the side, letting him crash into the wall- "Fool, you are only delaying the inevitable, I will-" he let out a high pitched shriek as his one weakness was targeted-

"Hey, guess what?" he cackled, wedging his drake sword deep into fang boar's anus "You used to be a fangboar, then-" he was knocked off his feet by the enraged beast, the fangboar jumping up on hind legs and shuffling away

"That's not funny!" he cried, "It's not my fault I have the most awkward weakspot in the game!" he bawled, running away and leaving the last shreds of his dignity behind…

* * *

Now past the fangboar, the dovahkiin advanced towards the parish-

* * *

The new chosen undead rounded the corner, looking down the hall and seeing a knight with a long, royal orange cape. The chosen undead snuck up on the knight, backstabbing and kicking him away- only to see the knight spring back up and reel around-

"How- dare you stab me in the back, you _boiled bottom_!" he shouted, leaping around like crazy, "you empty headed animal food-trough _wiper_!" the former dovahkiin shrugged as the strange knight stopped in place, holding his long, slender sword before him, "en' guard you silly English typ-e! I blow my nose at you, I _fart _in your general direction!"

"Alright, alright!" the dovahkiin laughed, seeing his shield was down, "That's enough of that!" he bit, stabbing the annoying knight-

But so sooner did his sword barely get near the rude, fancy knight was it knocked aside, the knight stabbing him through the chest and killing him instantly-

"Now go away or I shall stab thee eh second time!"

* * *

Several deaths later…

* * *

The haggard DSP limped into the side tower of the Parish, hoping, praying for a bonfire…

"What- the- fuck?" he cried for the thousandth time, upturning his estus flash and watching the last few drops fall out, "I've barely reached the third dungeon and the enemies are already ten times as strong as the tutorial! What is up with the difficulty curve, it's too steep dammit!" he then heard the bang of a hammer on metal, DSP going to investigate, finding-

"Bonfire!" he shrieked with glee, embracing it tenderly, stroking its fine, rusty blade, "I missed you, I missed you so much." It then combusted, scorching the dovahkiin's face.

Once he recovered, he headed down the stairs, towards the sound of the hammer…

"Hello thar'!" someone greeted in a hearty, very British accent (if only mine could be so grossly incandescent). DSP turned- only to be blinded by pure badassery- trying to hold his pansy hands up to shield his eyes did nothing-

As it faded- he could discern a figure at least seven feet tall with a twelve pack of abs, biceps that would make Mike Tyson weep with envy and the most motherfucking manly ponytail-mullet and beard of all time-

The blacksmith stopped pounding on his anvil- lessening the blinding aura of his awesomeness enough for DSP to look upon him without being incinerated-

"Sorry 'bout that," he laughed, his voice shaking the ceiling a little, "I firget to tone it down sometimes. I am Andre of Astora- maker of the grandest weapons in Lordran, sadly, this flame' is unworthy of my greatness. Bring me some embers, and I'll make you weapons strong enough to break the gods in two, would you be a dear and do that fir' me?"

"_Yes_-" DSP sighed breathlessly, a little girl in the presence of the paragon of manliness that was Andre (admit it, no-one can resist Andre's swag X3 )

Andre returned to his sword,

"Shh, I know dear- that's it…" But lo, was DSP so entranced by the great blacksmith, he wondered down below the tower, turning his attention back to the end of the stairs-

"What the fuck is that!?" he cried aloud as the colossal horned- thing shot a gigantic lightning bolt right at him, DSP fleeing to the side, the stray arc exploding the wall-

"_Nope_!" DSP shouted again, fleeing back to Andre-

* * *

One large session of weapon and armor buffing later…

* * *

DSP strode forward, his weapons utterly destroying everything before him, the former dovahkiin glad he'd found a way to reinforce his crap weapons, if only he'd found him sooner, but oh well…

As the dovahkiin crossed into the threshold of the church, he reflected on how badass everyone was here- sure it was hardcore and he died a lot, but there was seldom a face he didn't find memorable and intriguing-

"You know," he wondered aloud, "At least I have company around here, the people here are so interesting and well designed…"

"Like me?"

"Yes, like…" the former hero of Skyrim froze, his eyes slowly scaling the titanic, dark figure clad in immensely strong but decaying armor, his colossal shield grinding across the floor in one hand while a great mace tapped impatiently on his shoulder in the other-

"_Mommy_-" The chosen undead squeaked before the Berenike turned him into yet another bloodstain…

* * *

Whiterun, after running the fuck away from Scenic Riverwood…

* * *

Pistoff approached the front gate of the lively city of Whiterun, a guard promptly calling him to halt-

"Hold up, city's closed while the dragons are about, ain't nobody getting in-"

"I saw Kalameet and need to warn the Jarl and stuff."

"Well shit, why didn't you say so!" he yelled, throwing the gate open. As the new dragonborn walked in, the guard noted all his thing killin' gear-

"I used to be an adventurer like you, then I took an arrow in the knee."

"That's great." Pistoff sighed, rolling his eyes, before the other guard spoke up,

"Hey, I used to be an adventurer like you, then I took an arrow in the knee."

"Okay-" then another guard walked out of the gate, "Hey, I used to be-"

"FUKINMUNKEYBALLZSHUTTHEFUCKUPYAVCUNTTTTTTTZZZ!"

* * *

Whiterun square, fifteen guards later…

* * *

"I can't believe it's just the same- fucking person- over, and over, and over again!" the orc ranted, "Why? Why can't I see Solaire? Seigmeyer? I saw the blacksmith, that's not Andre! That's a waifu built to give you blue balls because of her Neanderthal husband!" as though to mock the misplaced chosen undead's position, he suddenly came face to face with _him_-

The bastard for all eternity, giving the most conceited smirk imaginable, stuck his chin up to the chosen,

"Do you get to the cloud district very often," he sneered, Pistoff's hate mounting, "Oh, what am I saying. Of course you don't-" suddenly, his asshole head was blown off by a flying, malformed blade- the demonic thing dislodging itself from his head and bouncing down the asphalt- hitting a poor merchant in the ass, making him slap his horse, who kicked the man and the sword hard, the malformed blade catching a gust and flying into house battleborn- the whole structure exploding and collapsing to the ground as the sword blew out the other side to the sounds of screaming and chaos-

"Talos- _I love you_!" Heimskir screamed as the cursed sword tore into his gut and spun up his body like a buzzsaw, dropping him to the ground scaling the statue of Talos, the god of the nord's acknowledging the sword's badassery with a great thu'um from his effigies lips- sending the blade far into the distance-

"Please- please come back." Pistoff sobbed, "I'm sorry- I'm so sorry!"

* * *

Whiterun, the cloud district

* * *

The dragonborn walked into the Jarl's grand palace, spotting the great leader on his throne-

"**Target:: Acquired**" the former chosen undead growled, his eyes glowing red as he drew his ancient nord sword- recalling Vendrick and Gwyn and Nashandra and Allant-

He shook it out of his head, sheathing his blade again-

This wasn't Lordran, this was Skyrim, the leaders were probably just as pussy-ass as their subjects. A form came up in front of him-

"Another wanderer here to lick my father's boots," the kid sneered, "What's the matter, you going to do something about it, pussy?" Pistoff rammed his sword into the obnoxious kid's chest-

"I'm sorry, but you forced me to do this- I have put up with too many annoying little shits to-"

"What?" the little asshole replied, "you think this can kill me, you're so weak!"

"What?" the orc withdrew his blade, the kids chest wound instantly closing, Pistoff slashing his throat open, only to see that close too as the little kid laughed-

"_Nooooooooo_!" the orc cried, falling to his knees and reaching his hands out dramatically…

* * *

Meanwhile, in Undead Parish…

* * *

The scrub limped into the church once more, panting with exhaustion…

"I did it! I finally beat the giant knight, now I just have to get to the roof, and ring the bell…" DSP reeled as a bolt of blue energy that utterly destroyed the balance of the game knocked him off his feet- the scrub looking up to the second level of the parish and seeing a flamboyantly dressed azure wizard with a great, blinged out golden trident-

He then started- dancing- thrusting his trident up and down and leaping foot to foot whist the Ding Dong Song blared through the parish, the lighting blacking out while the wizard flashed all the colors of the rainbow, prism stones flying all around the raving channeler-

"Two minibosses in one room are you fucking kidding me!?" the dovahkiin shouted above the ravelord. He found the flight of stairs and started up, a Balderfag trying to coax the dovahkiin into stabbing him, though he resisted and finished him with a backstab.

The chosen undead continued on, the ravelord in sight-

"Alright, now I've got em!" he declared, when suddenly, a massive flood deprived junkies flew down the hallway, hopped up on green blossoms, mushrooms, and heavy techno-

Needless to say, they swarmed and destroyed the hapless DSP, sending him back to the Andre…

* * *

Several ravelord raves later…

* * *

The chosen undead ran up, the ding dong song eroding his mind faster the closer he got to the dancing channeler, but at least he'd finally defeated all the hollow junkies for now-

"Now! It's your turn to die, and take that shitty song with you!" the ravelord, sensing a disturbance in the force of music, instantly stopped dancing- his trident plunging into chosen undead and drilling him into oblivion with DPS far beyond what should've been necessary-

He coldly watched the chosen undead crumble into ash before his feet- before Gunther blared even louder and the ravelord resumed dancing-

* * *

Even more ravelord raves later…

* * *

Though it was a long and steady process, the chosen undead eventually figured out how to defeat the ravelord: by dancing alongside him, feeling the music, and finally working his way next to him and dispatching him with the power of Andre's macho forging.

DSP strode forward confidently- having defeated not only one, but two minibosses-

"Though it was an arduous task- I actually feel, warm inside…" the former dovahkiin sighed, flinging the ravelord's corpse all over the place with the bizarre ragdoll physics…

* * *

The undead parish, Lautrec's cell…

* * *

The chosen undead came face to face with a golden knight sitting in his cell, looking up at the chosen undead with a demonic gleam in his eyes, his rough, godlike voice growling…

"Hello, I am Lautrec of Carim," he hissed, "Let me out, and I shall reward you greatly."

"Um…"

"I'll help you defeat the boss."

"Alrighty then!" the chosen undead beamed, throwing the cell door open. Afterall, there was no way he could be bested by an NPC, the closest thing to a betrayal was Mercer- and Arvil- and that sexy vampire in Morthal- and-

The dovahkiin gulped as the knight laughed to himself, walking past with an aura of darkness enveloping him all around-

"Now- time to kill that firebitch…"

"Fire who?" DSP thought before heading off,

* * *

A little before the fog gate…

* * *

"This is so stupid!" DSP shouted, throwing the worthless white soapstone down, "What do you mean I have to be human and not die to summon help! I never needed humanity to get assistance! Fuck it! Damn nondragonborns were never that helpful before, but nothing lost in trying since I'm _fucked _anyhow!"

* * *

One humanity restoration later…

* * *

DSP pushed himself through the fog wall, marching down the roof- Nightwish- end of all hope blaring in the background as Sunbro Solaire came in from his right hand and Lautrec in his shining golden mail emerged to his left- the trio synchronizing weapons as the massive bell gargoyle flew down from the belfry, crashing on the shingles-

"No plunge attacks here, fucker!"

"Jolly co-operation!" DSP screamed back, the three surging forward- the bell gargoyle took to the air- a sunlight spear blowing him out of the sky and sending him to the ground-

DSP ran in, the bell gargoyle whipping around and slapping the chosen undead across the chest- the monster shrieking as Lautrec sliced his tail off his scissor swords- I mean shotels, the axe falling to the ground for DSP to pick up-

Sunbro Solaire flying in and stabbing the gargoyle in the front, the gargoyles retaliating halberd getting blocked by DSP with his Uber Knight Shield+2, Lautrec jumping up on the Bell Gargoyles shoulder's and guillotining his head off with his epically impractical farming gear-

A second, gimpy gargoyle flew from the roof- preparing his firebreath-

Stopping as a nuclear explosion erupted around the trio, Solaire praising the sun in the center with DSP holding his noob sword two handed to the left with Lautrec with his parrying dagger and shotel on the right-

"Fuck this shit!" the dwarf gargoyle screamed, bringing his straitsword around and committing honorable seppeku to avoid the ass-whoopin' of the millennium-

DSP threw his arms in the air-

"Holy fucking nine! That boss was easier than Maven after the Honningbrew Job! Praise the sun!" he cheered, Solaire fading away with his arms to the sky while Lautrec, never the sociable type, just rolled his eyes and vanished.

* * *

Meanwhile, in Dragonsreach…

* * *

The new dragonborn walked to the Jarl, a rather cuntish dark elf flying in to bar his way-

"Back the fuck up!" she snapped, "I'm the Jarl's body guard and I say-" she choked on her words as Pistoff crept up on her-

"I have been yelled at by _far_ too many scrubs as it is-" he growled, "Now, go fuck yourself- leave me alone- and let me continue this fucking questline so I can go _back _to Lordran where I belong." Iralith paused a moment,

"Oh, you think you can talk to me like that you little bitch? I'm an essential character- as in- you can't beat this questline without me- so _nothing_ can kill me."

"Really, nothing?"

"Absolutely nothing!" the orcs eyes erupted with fiery red as he activated berserk rage- kneeing the cunt in the cunt so hard her eyes rolled into the back of her head- the new, angrier dragonborn knocking her across the room with the swat of hand (Leider Hosen Inc. Does not promote violence against females)

"Get up from that- I fuckin' dare ya!" Pistoff raged, "Fucking Bethesda- telling me who I can and can't kill! Why!? Why are all the most fucking worthless and annoying characters essential, why can't I kill them even when their quests are done! Or better yet, _why are they so fucking obnoxious in the first place!_" (Inspired by an actual rant I had after trying to kill Maven Blackbriar and those racist Assholes in Windhelm among others)

"Um, excuse me," Balgruuf asked, raising his hand, "Who the fuck are you, and why are you assaulting my anal housecarl?"

"Finally- look, Kalameet is in your hold, burning down your villages, and we need to do something about it. Oh, and Alvor wants more guards in Riverwood."

"Hmm," he thought, "You seem pretty trustworthy, so I'm going to do that and that, however, you will need to pwn a dragon in full view of everyone before we fully consider this to be a problem,

"My Jarl," the captain of the guard called, "We have lost contact with the western watchtower, we need to check that shit out!"

"How delightfully convenient!" Balgruuf clapped, "Stranger who I have just met, find out what's wrecking our shit, and I shall award you with:" suddenly, lights flashed over the castle, Gameshow music flashing all around- "the highest position I have the power to give: Thane, which will let you commit any major offense for free! A lovely new home- you have to buy everything for it including the house, but I'm giving it to you! And, a _new_ waifu!" he called, the lights flashing across the castle to a pretty nord woman sitting at a table-

"Huh?"

"Wait wait wait!" Pistoff shouted, the music slowing "Hold up! You're telling me that by doing a few chores, I get instantly equated to royal status- and almost everything I do results in a new waifu to bang when I'm not pwning monsters? If that what you're telling me!?"

"Yeah, basically." He shrugged,

"And don't forget," Proventus added, "We'll pay you to go out and kill things that are plaguing the people. Everything rewards you- hell, walking in the front door is a reward!"

A guard walked in the front door, the maids offering him a few cookies and praise for having made it that far when he asked to go to the bathroom. The former chosen undead curled his lip in disgust,

"I will _tentatively_ say getting rewarded for doing jack shit is preferable to dying."

"Wonderful!" Balgruuf cried, the music coming back even stronger and merrier than ever, "Also, take my housecarl with you, she will observe." Pistoff looked over at Iralith, still curled up on the floor, "But- uh- maybe let her take five."

* * *

Five minutes later…

* * *

Pistoff, Iralith, and a whole battalion of noob guards comparing their knee related injuries snuck up on the watchtower, looking about. Pistoff sighed-

"Okay, no dragons." He murmured, "That's good- I was starting to-"

Just then, a dragon blew over the tower, all the guards getting into combat position and feebly trying to shoot it down with arrows.

"Hold the line!" Iralith called, "You! You need to-" but alas, Pistoff was nowhere in sight, the dark elf looking under the stairs and seeing him cowering pure terror- "Get your ass out here and fight!"

"Fuck you! I'm not going." He cried, remembering all the horrid- horrid nightmares the dragon's had given the family- accept for Pricilla. She was nice :3

"Oh come on!" she barked, shooting a few lightning bolts at the rampaging beast, trying to think of a worthy insult to motivate him-

"Don't you want the house, and the waifu!"

"It's not worth it!"

"You'll look like a complete ass!"

"I'm already an ass!" she thought long and hard, before finally realizing what would do the trick-

"Then I'll kill it, then _I_ will be more pro than _you_."

"_The fuck you just say!_" he roared, blowing through the solid stone, "No scrub, casual, or noob will get the better of me! Where's the fucking dragon!?" the dragon flew down in front of him, preparing a mighty flame breath- and the dovahkiin was all out of healing items!

But- just as fireblast was about to be unleased- the dragon turned and ran away,

"The fuck's it doing!" Iralith and Pisatoff both exclaimed as the dragon flew a hundred meters and started attacking a mudcrab-

The dovahkiin was transfixed, unable to process the idiocy before him as the dragon fought the crab, little more than a speck compared to him- the great beast finally frying it with a fireblast- it's long, forked tongue lolling out of its head as he arched his back and started scampering after a bunny rabbit-

Pistoff facepalmed harder than he knew possible,

"Why, is everything in this whole world, so- fucking- _stupid_!" in any case, they still had a rampaging dragon to deal with, they needed a plan-

At last, the dragon turned, having defeated the rabbit:

"Play-" the dragonborn saw little of what transpired as a nuclear blast of power blew him off his feet-

Pistoff squinted his eyes open, a figure appearing from the dust- his blackened beard flowing in the breeze as he stomped towards the already injured dragon, shaking the ground-

"Ye' damn whipper-snapper dragons think you can just bully us old' folk around. Damn kids!" the great, grey skinned man then piledrove the dragon into the ground with his greatclub of mammoth bone, creating another atomic blast of power that caused the whole dragon to bend in half, nearly flying skyward, the giant grabbing the dragon's tail and flipping him back and forth, blowing a larger and larger hole in the ground-

Pistoff just watched the murder unfold, his eyes wobbling-

"What- the literal fuck-"

* * *

One hour earlier-

* * *

The scumbag dragon flew overhead, destroying anything and everything it could get its teeth on- mostly because it was too scatterbrained to keep a target and merely ran back and forth across the land, coming to a gigantic bonfire with a few mammoths wondering peacefully about.

"ooh- mammoth- fuzzy mammoth!" the dragon chortled, flaming everything around him. Suddenly, one of the mammoths was lifted off his feet, the giant moving it aside and running towards the dragon-

"Damn kids- git off my lawn dammit, I'm over 756 years old!" before the dragon knew it, four of the grouse old men were on him, their mammoths charging into battle behind them-

"Oh no- I have to- _bunny_!" the dragon shouted, obliviously flying away with the giant shaking his club at him-

"Yu think ya' kin just fly off sunny! I'll learn yer if I haf to chase ye' all the way to the next hold ye scaly son of a bitch!" he roared, running after the "great" beast (this legit fucking happened in one of my travels, I even buffed the giant with courage and healed him during the fight. Giantbro for life X3 )

* * *

The giant finished the beatdown, slinging his club over his shoulder and heading off…

"Now my mammoth fondue is going to be all cold, damn kids!" The dovahkiin marched up to the dragon, keeping a safe distance from the grumpy giant- giving thanks to every god he knew the Rape Sentinels didn't have this level of godly, absurd power-

The dragon coughed up its own blood and teeth, his scaly limbs bent every which way-

"Kill me." He gurgled,

"My pleasure." Pistoff grinned, tapping him in the nose and dispatching him in a single shot. He killed the dragon, feeling the familiar rush of his soul entering his body whist everyone around him complimented him for his mad dragonslaying skills, then they lost their shit-

"What, you consumed his very soul?"

"Bitch, in my world _everyone _eats souls." he glowered, "now tell me where to find a bonfire to level up." Iralith just looked at him like he'd drunk a liter of skooma-

"Well, I don't know about using it to get stronger."

"Wait," one of the guards shouted- all the other guards parting whist a giant "important dialogue alert" came up- "Gods, could you be- Dragonborn!"

"What?" another exclaimed, "Dragonborn! That's only a legend."

"So are dragons," Pistoff muttered, making everyone a little more open to the suggestion.

"Alright," Iralith shrugged, "maybe you are the dragonborn, but you still need to prove it!"

"Can you shout?" Pistoff focused on the dragon soul burning within him, it's power mounting- he could feel it- the words of power, coming to him-

"_Fuck you all_!" he shouted, a balloon of force knocking the hapless guards of their feet,

"He really is the dragonborn!" another guard exclaimed, "after all this time." The world shook, a blast a force shaking the earth as a sound rung out-

"_Death Pony_!" boomed many great voices from the mountains, the guards freaking out,

"That must be the greybeards, they are calling you!" they shouted, Pistoff shrugging.

"Meh, I'll get around to it, right now I have to worry about my house and waifu-"

"Actually," an older, darker voice said from behind him, "I need to borrow you a moment." Before the new dovahkiin could even shout profanity, he was pulled away-

* * *

Meanwhile, at the peak of undead parish…

* * *

The bell rung loud and proud, echoing across the land for all to hear- DSP jumping for joy-

"I did it, I rung the bell! Now I just have to ring the second bell, and I'm home free!" he exclaimed climbing back down the tower. As he disembarked though- he immediately came face to face with evil black coat Jesus-

"Greetings, I am Pardoner Oswald of Carim, do you desire absolution for your sins?" he pined expectantly, the former dovahkiin shaking his head,

"No, I don't think I've done anything wrong, yet."

"Oh," he slumped a little, "Well, thou art welcome anytime, it is only human to commit a sin!" he laughed, his creepy voice driving DSP towards the door-

"Okay, I'm starting to see a trend with Carim-" he mumbled, the pardoner turning in place,

"Oh, and would you like a Ye' Olde Indictment slip." He called, pulling out a friendly looking piece of paper, "This allows you to summon darkmoonfags to punish dickwraiths when you get invaded in human form."

"You can get invaded in human form?" DSP gulped, Oswald nodding,

"Yes, as a matter of fact theres one right there!" he cried happily, smiling wide through his mask and shifting his Jesusing a little to point-

DSP turned, his blood going cold as he spotted a spotted the invader-

-Invaded by dark spirit ShuffleballzCuddlepuss- a SL 30 build with a +30 epic pwnsword, full black knight armor +5, a silver knight shield +5, and Dark Wood Grain and FaP rings.

"You've gotta be shittin' me-" The former dovahkiin growled, the invader closing the distance between them with an insane set of ninja flips and slicing the scrubs head before spamming the fuck out of "well, what is it!"

* * *

The parish bonfire…

* * *

"Fuck this world!" DSP shouted, flipping his shit all over the room, "What the fucking hell!? I go out the door, die! I look at a monster? Die! I praise the sun? Die! I go into human form for a little jolly co-operation? Die! I've had it with this place, fuck this, it isn't worth it!"

"That sounds like scrub talk- scrub." The enraged dovahkiin turned, finding a colossal monster of a man in full metal armor, though he wore it as though it were completely weightless and duel greatswords- Soulbrandt and Demonbrandt, "What's the matter can't take a little invasion? If you thought that was buttrape, just wait till' you get gravelorded- though a _real_ man would get gravelorded everywhere and fight the black phantoms barefisted like a fucking man!" the scrub leapt into the arms of Demon Slayer-

"Please- take me home! I don't like it here! it's all dark and scary and full of creepers and everything here one shits me! At least in legendary mode I could sneak and not get invaded by all these mean old dickwraiths!" he bawled, the demon slayer prying him off-

"That's just because you haven't fucking got gud ya' filthy casual! But, that's not why I'm here, quick, grab onto my gauntlet-" the scrub did so- the slayer of demon's blasting him through the roof-

"_Gid gud_!"

* * *

In a netherverse between dreams and reality…

* * *

After a rough trip through the cosmos, Pistoff and DSP found themselves in a large, rather fancy restaurant at the end of the universe, Morrowind, Oblivion, and the Slayer of Demons on one side while the chosen undead and dragonborn sat on the other.

"So," Morrowind started, "how is everything going so far?"

"Terrible."

"Horrible." The slayer of demon's rolled his eyes in utter contempt, Oblivion continuing:

"Well, have you two at least learned to appreciate your differences?"

"_Hell no_!" the chosen undead snapped, "Skyrim is so- boring, and casual- all I do is walk around doing shit for people- more than half of which are complete assholes- and I don't earn shit! Where's the satisfaction in that!?"

"Boring! Casual!?" the dovahkiin retorted, "Lordran is fucking nightmare! Everywhere I go I'm getting my ass kicked by something, and everytime I start enjoying myself- boom! More cocky dooky mumblefuck nonsense artificial difficulty!"

They started arguing again, the two getting owned by a giant hammer- the indignant Mario tromping away-

"Ey! You are'a disrupting everybody!"

"Yeah, shut he fuck up you fucking faggot, you retards can't fucking can't aim for shit- you don't even 360 no scope you faggot! Fucking suck my dick-" the 12-year old shouting continued- DSP and Pistoff looking at eachother while the slayer of demons and Morrowind facepalmed and silently wept for the gaming universe-

"Who the fuck is that nimrod?" DSP snapped_, faggot faggot faggot faggot_ now blaring continually in the background-

"SUPERMLG_1440NOSCOPPERBEN-" Pistoff mumbled, rubbing his temples, "Call of Duty."

"Hey, don't ignore me you fucking faggots!" he whined, "Mom, where's my pizza and soda! Mom!" the two looked to eachother nodding-

The insults halted as the juvenile got a Gargoyle Axe rammed through his back- the former dovahkiin kicking him to the chosen undead- who activated his daily berserk mode-

"_Fuck- you all_!" he shouted, launching the FPS from the building,

"You fucking haxing faggots- fuck a sheep I hope your mom dies of cancer fucking faggot-" he shouted, dropping from earshot as the whole bar cheered and passed drinks around-

"Well," Pistoff muttered, "I still say Skyrim is for casuals-"

"But at least we'll never be a retarded waste of oxygen that guy." DSP finished, the two returning to their seats together-

"Oh," Morrowind commented, "So you two can work together-"

"Hell no!"

"Fuck no!" they retorted, the slayer of demon's laughing- as the two turned from eachother, their temporary understanding dissolved.

"Well, well- don't we have a temper, but you'd think about Jolly Co-Operation because we have ourselves a deal for you scrubs!" he bellowed, already relishing the impending misery-

"Yes," Oblivion added, "A lot of people have been watching you two, and they came up with a very good idea. If you two can survive a gauntlet of demons, we will let you go right then- you don't have to see the realm to the end." The two were instantly swept away-

"You mean- I can go home to my waifus?"

"I can start pwning noobs again?"

"Yes, and Yes." Morrowind nodded, "But you only get one chance- it will not be easy, as these are the most dreaded and terrifying beings ever encountered in both your worlds."

"Yes," the slayer of demons nodded, "You can do it now or later- but you'd better be gud because you bitches have to beat them together-"

"_Together_!" DSP and Pistoff shouted simultaneously, their cries falling on deaf ears,

"Well, are you pro yet? Now or later scrubs?" the two considered it- Dovahkiin blurting-

"Now! Please let's get this over with!" The chosen undead elbowed him-

"No shit for brains! We've _barely_ passed the first quest and have almost no powers yet, we'd get murdered, and we have only one shot! I know _you_ have to grind for sure- _scrub_." DSP was tempted to shout back at him, but was at least smart enough to understand the concept of leveling-

"Alright," he growled, "You're the 'Pro', when do _you_ think we should do it." The chosen undead nodding, knowing exactly when to go-

"Ornstein and Smough." He nodded, a chill passing through the room upon speaking their dreaded names, "You can level up all your equipment with Jolly the blacksmith, meanwhile, I'm sure I can find plenty of things to keep myself occupied and not die of abject boredom since there's no real urgency to the world getting destroyed." They agree on that course, a final question posed-

"Alright, who will these great demon's be?" The slayer of demon's nodded,

"There are too many to count, that's why you-" he turns in his seat, petrifying you in your seat with his deathly stare, "That's right, you, the dumbass reading this shit- will decide…"

* * *

OOOOOOOOO much twist… such intrigue… many choice! Vote now beetch! (poll is on my profile, PMed and reviewed entries accepted, though you can vote to a maximum of eight on the profile, so it's recommended) ;3

* * *

Dark Souls: OnlyAfro- Chaoshander GIANTDAD!

Dark Souls: Joe Fenix- Neo Cosplay

Dark Souls: Yami Tamashi- Speedhack mode

Dark Souls: darksydephil- Enough said

Dark Souls: Krazy999- The Kamikaze Ninja build

Dark Souls: Oroboro the Ninja- Gankspanker build

Dark Souls: Emmeral- legendary SL 1 build

Dark Souls: Peeve Peeverson- Marakumo spam build

Skyrim: Tyrannacon- epic battle lead by Throthgar the Dragonborn

Skyrim: Dovahbear

Skyrim: Mr. Rhexx- chaotic evil build with gamebreaking console commands

Skyrim: MMOxReview- WTF?! (mods)

Skyrim: Sheogorath, Prince of Madness- Cheese, for everyone!

Skyrim: Mans1ay3r- battle arena


	5. Doors are for Bitches

A/N: It's back bitch! Sorry I've been fucking around so much with this fiction, I can say it's one of my favorite projects thus far and is very much alive.

Blah Blah don't have much material, this chapter won't be as good as the last, let's get 'er done…

* * *

Dragonsreach, after getting the dragon attack sorted out…

* * *

Pistoff came up the steps of Dragonsreach, Iralith and the few guards that managed to scrape by just behind them as the whole group came up the stairs to stand before the Jarl, who was predictably hanging out on his throne doing Jarl type things.

"So," he greeted, "You slew the dragon?"

"Yup, it was a thing." Pistoff shrugged, the Jarl shouting-

"Lydia, get your ass over here!" The rather grumpy nord woman came over, seeing the new thane and promptly dropping to one knee-

"A am your sword and your shield, and I shall defend your life and your home until the end."

"Um-" the orc thought, glancing back at the jarl, "Is everyone like this?"

"Basically, we take our hero worship _very_ seriously." The jarl nodded, "now, you have permission to buy property and live in this hold, speak with Proventus, my steward, about the details."

"Will do," Pistoff nodded, heading the blue robed, formally dressed steward.

"Ahh," Proventus exclaimed, "You must be the new thane, when you're ready to buy your new home, speak to me and I'll take care of everything." Pistoff rolled his eyes at their attempt to baby him, as if he didn't already know what to do since they told him the same thing _three fucking times_.

"Alright, alright, I'll get the gold and figure it out from there."

"As you wish, but first…" he said, drawing a friendly looking brochure from his robes, "this will tell you all that you need to know."

"Wait a minute…" the orc exclaimed, grabbing the paper and reading through a little, astonished he could actually, tangibly hold it "You can _read_ books?" He'd seen plenty in his day, but they were always fused to their bookshelves- trying to yank them out with his sword merely made them disintegrate.

"Well, yes, how else would you learn everything?" Reading? Pistoff could actually _read_!?

The Orc, who craved lore a druggie craves drugs, suddenly realized the sheer massive number of books lying around on the tables, on the shelves, his head swiveling around to take it in while his eyes dilated-

* * *

? Later…

* * *

Farengar stepped from his lab with a rather shady individual at his side,

"Hey Jarl, I was just wondering-" he stopped, seeing the new dovahkiin sitting cross-legged on the floor- eyes closed in meditation with piles of books all around him, a few levitating around him as the pages gently turned-

The orcs eyes opened, rays of transcendent light erupting from them-

"Life, is an illusion, we, are an illusion, manufactured for the amusement of beings beyond our wildest comprehensions-" suddenly, he rose himself from the ground, the power of a hundred skill books ascending him to another realm, carrying him aloft into a ray of sunlight-

"Hold on," Iralith said, shooting him down with a copy of the Forsworn Conspiracy- the chosen undead falling from the air and crashing into his pile of books with a great crash and Wilhelm Scream.

Pistoff emerged, grumpy as ever-

"I'm transcending existence, do you mind!" he snapped,

"Yes, I mind!" the dark elf snapped back, Farengar stepping forward,

"The whole 'dragons returning to Tamriel' can wait, but we'd like you to find a special stone, a Dragonstone from Bleak-"

"Already got it," Pistoff interrupted, handing the great carved rock over to the wizard.

"Oh, thank you." He shrugged, inspecting it, "How did you- are you crying?"

"No-" Pistoff sobbed, "I'm sweating from my eyes."

* * *

Meanwhile, in scenic Lordran…

* * *

With the dovahkiin safely back in Lordran- Jesus fuck did I just write that? Ahem- now that he'd been thrust back into the bell tower of scenic Lordran, DSP contemplated how to advance.

"Alright," DSP murmured, thinking to himself, "I rung the first bell, now the second should be in the depths… how do I get to the depths?"

* * *

A billion years later….

* * *

DSP threw the door the watchtower open, immediately spotting a long, long ladder into the abyss.

"It's about fucking time!" he shouted, heading down one iron rung at a time, "how was I supposed to know the key was on the other side of that gate from hours ago!? What the fuck, alright, you know what I should expect this: Lordran, the land will you will fucking wonder in circles one half the game, die the other two fifths, then maybe make some progress the last little bit, bet they never considered a fucking map!" he ranted, though he still found himself climbing down the long ladder by the end.

Finally, he got off at the bottom and headed down to the ruined cityscape, looking towards a rather ominous city street ahead covered with burning corpses and shit and a really, really long ass staircase to the right.

After a moment's pause, DSP chose to take the stairs up, hoping it was a shortcut and by the unholy name of Chathulu he was right for once!

The door at the top, looking rather raggedy, slid open to give DSP a glimpse of a rather familiar room, realizing the map indeed wasn't that large, just went round and round in circles. But on the other hand, least he didn't have to journey far to get anywhere.

The hollows of the room, to DSP's delight, were oblivious to his presence, staring with utmost intensity at the yawning doorway leading to the bonfire…

–insert obligatory chosen undead rape face here-

* * *

One murdalerdalating later…

* * *

After pwning some hollows and heading back down below into the dark alleyway, DSP heard a banging on a door, heading over and hearing a desperate voice pleading for help,

"Alright, just calm down." DSP reassured him, "I'll get you out ASAP, just tell me where the key is."

"The key… oh um… I think you can get one from the hollow merchant in Undead Burg."

"The crazy one?"

"No, the crazy one with the sword!"

"How many other crazy merchants could there be?"

"Quite a few actually, but we don't have time for this just get me out!"

"Okay, just wait." The chosen undead left, realizing he was up for a long, boring trip back to the burg.

_I'll get it later_, he assured himself, embarking forward, when suddenly he heard a big noise at the end of the ally, a fleet of deadly, deformed hounds running in on him, "Alright, they're just dogs…"

* * *

The Undead Burg bonfire…

* * *

"What the fucking hell was that!" he screamed, kicking the bonfire, "they dodge and stunlock better than the fucking armored knights do, and 'bleed'? That's not bleed that's 'drop dead instantly like a faggot'! they're even worse than the fucking rats." He huffed, "But at least I left those behind me ages ago, time to do this shit again."

When he returned to the alley, he again saw the dogs running at him, the noob raising his mighty noobsword on high and slamming it down, the shockwave ready to tear them…

A crack went along the blade, a delayed moment in time passing before the mighty drakesword disintegrated and fell to the ground in a neat pile of ash…

* * *

Much later, after an obligatory soul farming…

* * *

The chosen undead yawned as he went back to the ally, killed the dogs, and shuffled down the street.

"This is just, boring, how could anyone like this repetitive bullshit! Even a deadly surprise would be better than-" no sooner had he meandered in a trance to the next stage of hell did all the doors around him fly open, a column of enemies closing in on him, "Goddammit, can I go five minutes without getting gang- raped-" He trailed, the petit, busty hollow rogues with their slick daggers and tight leather suits pressing in on him.

DSP switched gears to full douchebag mode, producing the Hellkite scumbag's sunglasses and exercising his wily dovahcharm-

"Ey gurl ai'd get gangraped by you anyday!" the hollow thieves stopped in place, blushing and shuffling their feet,

"Oh, thank you, we'd gangrape you anyday too!" they replied, their thieves knives dancing near their buxom hips. But alas, DSP remembered that this was not Skyrim, but Lordran, and got an aching feeling deep in his nether regions…

"Hahaha, I'm still going to die, aren't I?"

"Oh, completely." (Leider Hosen Inc. Does not condone getting PWNd in the manner loosely implied)

The chosen undead awoke at the bonfire, feeling the blue balls setting in, that is until he spotted a note by the ashes, "Hmm, what's this?"

_-That was fun, let's smash later, K? _

The former Dovahkiin, powered by a thousand erotic FanFictions and mods thrust his arm into a Freddy Mercury pose,

"Still got it!" Then remembered they were still zombies. Dammit…

* * *

The morning after… (what, do you really think we have any shame!?)

* * *

The chosen undead shamelessly marched down the street with his chin held high.

"I feel great!" he snapped, his noobsword pwning a dog that tried to bite onto his back leg, "The sun is shining, the torches are lit, my nipples are hard, nothing can ruin a day like today!" He crossed a mossy bridge, an ominous fog wall resting before him…

So, was this the fog to the next area, or should he try his luck with the scary stairs leading further down?

He pondered a bit, until he looked upon an orange streak on the ground-

_-Merchant ahead_

"Oh orange streak," he exclaimed, stepping into the fog, "you never lead me wrong!" Suddenly he heard it, the music-

_**The **_music-

_Never gonna give you up,_

"No-"

_never gunna let you down…_

"No." the music was replaced by a great, eerie chorus with a great red bar-

The colossal, goat-headed demon lumbered out, his mahogany cane pressing into the dirt as he hobbled over, his great, long goat beard waggling near his kneecaps, twitching as he adjusted his little spectacles-

"_You lied to me_…"

"Wassat' sunny, coundna heard you over me arthritis."

"What?"

"I'm just siddin her mindin meown business when the yungin with the sword in' the armor com'in thrugh me foggate and flashin his walkashame havin _hanky panky_ withe charledin hollow thieves cum robbin all'e passerbe of the souls and the trinkits an'such." He blinked his frosty goat eyes as he ran out of steam, prodding his spectacles, "sory wa'wazai bellachin' bout agin?"

"I just want to go to the depths and get to the second bell- that's all I want!" DSP cried. The shift in the'ornry ol' goat demon was instant -

"Open'in the dephs withe besilisk in'the orny ol' butcher madins?" He barked, drawing a key, "Ive been trust'd withis key for ov'r seven hundred years, justa make sure no yungin gets his hands onit."

"Then I guess I'll have to kill you!" DSP barked, drawing his noobsword, "what do you think about that?" The Capra Demon clenched his eyes shut, his whole body growing tense with anger,

"You- yungins- think- yu kin- bully us olfolk around because'im jus the firth boss of the- game, thad does'it- I cant- take this anymur! _Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh_"

Dust flew back away from him as he roared and levitated from the ground, his back straitening and limbs stretching as his epic goat beard flew around and his spectacles disintegrated off his head, his roar echoing through the ally way-

* * *

Pisstoff suddenly leveled up, his eyes flashing with fiery power, earning a confused look from the guard.

"Sorry. Everytime a scrub gets reckt a Souls player gets gud."

* * *

DSP cringed as the goat continued to power up, until at last he slammed into the ground, his pale beard flying around him as he bore aloft two colossal machetes, his eyes glowing white with Raiden-like rage-

"_Do'you know who I'm_-" he growled, "_I'm yer worst nightmare, yu illbred li'l ruffian!_" DSP raised his MLG knight shield, _Alright, I can do this, how bad can it be, I've barely started the game-_

Suddenly two shapes blew in out of nowhere, stunlocking the former dovahkiin in place as they rammed him with the force of cruise missiles, latching onto his arms and dragging his shield down as the bleed damage skyrocketed, busting his defense wide open.

The capra brought his machetes around and crushed the former Dovahkiin with incredible force, DSP's consciousness fading as the dogs nommed him, the capra just turning and walking away, dragging his swords behind him like the badass he was…

* * *

Whiterun, Jorvaskar hall…

* * *

"So, best warriors in Skyrim, eh?"

"Yup." Kodlak nodded, "you'll never find better."

"I think I'd like to is that a demon heart?"

"Why yes, yes it is!" Pistoff slowly reached for it, his hand getting promptly slapped away, the orc frowning,

"Anyways," the badass nord Viking warrior continued, "We have many fine Waifus, weapons a plenty, and many harrowing and deadly dungeon raids, that will probably kill you."

"Sounds like a party!" Pistoff said, glancing around and frowning a bit, "Hey, have you noticed anything strange around here?"

"I don't know what you mean," Kodlak replied, looking up from his waterbowl a moment, "there's nothing strange about us, aside from the fact we are the greatest warriors in Skyrim!" Pistoff leapt three feet in the air, jerking around to see Aela on her haunches-

"Did you just sniff my ass!"

"No!" She snapped back, a blush crossing her cheeks. The orc's gaze shifted to Farkus chasing a magelight at the end of the hall-

"I can't put my finger on it, but I swear something isn't right about these people…."

* * *

"Alright," Vilkas said, "Starting today, you are a companion, for your first order of business, you may get a weapon from Eorland Greymane, the best blacksmith in Skyrim himself. And also get my repaired equipment. But be careful, it's worth more than your life!"

"Alrighty then." Pistoff growled, heading up the stairs when suddenly the orc, for the first time since Lordran, was blinded by the pure force of manliness that can only emanate from a shirtless, muscular blacksmith with a badass white beard and hair-

"Andre, is that you?" Pistoff said weakly, the glow fading a little as the blacksmith leaned up from his grindstone and wiped the sweat from his brow,

"No, I am Eorlund Greymane, crafter of the best weapons in Skyrim!" he smiled, sitting in the shade of the great eagle of the Skyforge. The Orc silently cursed himself for conceiving that any part of this Casul world was as good as Lordran _buut_ he made an exception for Eorlund.

"Hey?" The chosen undead mumbled,

"Yeah?" Pistoff shuffled his foot,

"If it isn't too much trouble, can I try to craft something to?"

"Um, sure, I don't see the harm in it." _Dun dun DUN!_

* * *

One epic build-tage later…

* * *

The Chosen undead, with a few pointers from the legendary Eorlund Greymane raised his new creation, realizing right away something wasn't right-

It was made of long, sleek, skyforge steel alright, but it had no blade or tip: just a long, slender needle as long as a man and shining in the sunlight.

"I think it's a lance." Eorlund offered, though the chosen undead wasn't convinced-

"Hey wait, I think I see a button here." He clicked it, the thing suddenly beginning to peel open and glow,

_-Power up the bass cannon_ it growled, the chosen realizing his hideous error

"Oh god…" the monster shot a blinding blue and white beam of pure dubstep, the force knocking the chosen undead off balance and sending the thing sweeping around, screams and cries of agony roaring out as it blew buildings apart and carved trenches through the ground, the thing going up to the mountains and vaporizing tons of trees and sending avalanches of dirt and rocks down the cliffside.

Eorlund sprung into action with a ninja kick, knocking the bass cannon from the chosen's grasp and sending it into the boiling fires of Mount Skyforge from whence it came! Eorlund sighed while the chosen undead collected himself,

"You need more practice,"

* * *

"So, Farkas?"

"Yeah," the big guy replied neutrally, lugging his greatsword along behind him as they made their way to Dustman's Cairn

"All we have to do is get the shard of this mystical axe, then do a few odd jobs and I'll be all set?"

"Basically." The chosen undead sighed,

"So, what will we be up against?"

"Draugr, mostly, are you crying?"

"I'm sweating from my eyes, why do I have to say _that!_"

* * *

Dustman's Cairn, a dead end…

* * *

"Hmm, I appears the way is sealed by this portcullis…" Farkas mumbled, kicking it a few times, the chosen undead rolling his eyes as he made his way to the obvious lever.

"Yeah, yeah, just pull the lever and…" The door opened, but closed him in, the chosen heading to the gate and finding himself _surprised. _But before his aneurism could set in, Farkas wandered up, knocking his head into the wood a few times…

"Yeah, it's pretty solid." He shrugged, "don't worry, I'll get you out." Pistoff sighed, sitting down and preparing for the wait, when a fleet of bandits ran in and surrounded the hapless Farkas, the former chosen undead jumping up.

"No, I can't watch a dear friend die, it's too early, and I'll be stuck in here!" Pistoff already feeling the familiar feels of tragedy as the bandits approached,

"It'll be quite a story, when you're dead!" he mocked. Suddenly, a growl rose from within the great warrior, then, a deep, dark laugh…

"_None of you will be alive to tell it…_" Farkas grinned, his inner demon emerging within, then without as he suddenly tore his corporeal flesh away to reveal a colossal demon hellhound with glowing red eyes…

His black scythelike claws swooped down as the great muscles of the beast flexed and snapped forward, the man's intensions tearing out as his upper body spiraled away, the second bandit running in on his side-

The monster brought his arm back and snapped forward, ripping into his gut and hoisting him up, his second set of claws coming up and ripping into his torso, spraying blood across the ground as he was pulled in two with the squelch of tearing flesh, one with a greatsword sweeping in behind him, the wolf vanishing-

Reappearing in a flashstep behind him and sending a ripple through his powerful body as he brought his claws down in a cleaving motion, splitting the bandit's skull and shredding the concrete below him as the wolf's claws went through the soft flesh and tore over the ground, kicking up dust around him as he let up a howl of terror, the bandits fleeing as Farkas flexed his haunches and dove forward, launching up to a bandit and tacking him to the ground, impaling him with his claws before yanking him off the ground and throwing his weight to the side, throwing the first bandit into another bandit to trip him-

The two tried to get up, but the demon wolf flew up to them and grabbed them up in each hand, their bones shattering as he smashed them together with enough power to mangle all difference between the two of them, a bandit nearly catching him off guard with a longsword, until he was thrust into the air, the upward slash of the werewolf's claws shredding him until they caught on his collarbone and sent him across the room-

The final was swept off his feet, the wolf pinning his arms under his great hands and devouring him, each great chomp bursting an organ and sending a plume of blood spraying over the floor. The slaughter ending when his supply of victims was depleted. The wolf growled again and flew into a corridor, Farkas emerging as the portcullis lowered, the dopey warrior walking to the chosen undead,

"Are you alright?" Pistoff stood with his mouth far agape, frozen in place- finally fainting to the floor, "Hello?"

* * *

One dungeon raid later…

* * *

"Alright!" The orc exclaimed, getting a word of power off the wall, and pocketing a shard of Ysgramor's super duper axe, Wuuthrad "Now we can…" he was cut off by the sound of a thousand coffins exploding open, the whole hallway filling with Draugr.

...

"Shit. Farkas, help me! It's time for jolly co-oporation!" but alas, he was nowhere to be seen, the chosen finally spotting him marking his territory the dragon wall, "_Are you fucking serious right now!_" The chosen roared, sprinting around the room with the undead warriors in tow-

It was truly dire straits until the chosen undead remembered his greatest weapon:

"Pause, I need a break!" he shouted, the army halting a minute and taking the opportunity to chat over tea and coffee, the chosen undead sipping power buffs like no tomorrow, until his entire body roared with unparalleled power, "Time in!" he bit, the army creeping forward-

"You're alchemy cannot save you this day," one of them growled, the chosen undead just shaking his head before muttering to himself three words, the only ones he needed:

"Berserk mode:: Activate" suddenly the chosen's eyes erupted in fire, his head filled with a combination of Dubstep and Deathmetal, the OPness of the alchemy and daily spell giving his body the power of a nuclear device as he sprinted at them like the giant tank he was, all their blows just rolling off as he cut five in half simultaneously with the single swing of a greatsword-

* * *

One Gar as fuck rampage later…

* * *

The chosen undead stumbled forward, clutching Farkas' leg,

"Please, help me…" the warrior looked down on the decrepit undead, his gentle eyes wobbling,

"Are you hurt, brother?" the chosen undead choked on his own blood, Pistoff looking to him pleadingly-

"I'm- over 700Lbs overweight and I only have one strength potion, I need you to be my pack mule."

"Sure, I can haul your stuff."

"Please, take it now, I think my ribs are starting to give…"

* * *

Scenic Whiterun, Jorvaskar hall

* * *

"Hey, Pistoff!" The orc stopped, a bald but really tough looking nord in badass wolf armor stepping up to him,

"Yeah?"

"So, I heard you went on a pretty big murdering. You'll have to wait until after dark, but I have something really special I want to give you."

"Sorry, but I don't swing that way…" The orc mumbled, easing away-

"What? Oh not that, I was referring to the creepy underground cave under skyforge, where we will bestow upon you awesome power!"

"… You're not talking about your dick are you?"

"Just be there!" Pistoff watched him stomp off indignantly, the orc going towards the base of skyforge and staring intently at the wall… for eight hours, though it passed remarkably fast.

* * *

"So this is what's sitting under that eagle?" he mumbled aloud, gazing at the tribal totems on the wall and the big, onyx cauldron in the center of the room, Skjor and a werewolf resting by the side.

"Kodlak may not like giving werewolf powers to people, but I believe in your gar rampaging skills. Those bandits that attacked, endangering the life of our fair Farkus were none other than the Silver hand, who would destroy our order if given the chance!"

"I think we're remembering two very different Farkus' here…"

"As I said, I wish to give you the power of the beast to help us survive this merciless onslaught, will you be one with the beast?"

"Sure, why not?" Pistoff shrugged, sure being a rampaging wolf monster couldn't be worse than not being a rampaging wolf monster.

"Very good, I'm sure you recognize Aela? She will give you the power!" The orc glanced at the androgynous hellhound wolf beast,

"Yeah, I certainly see the resemblance..." He mumbled, the level of irony up to you, the reader :3 "So, she bites me, then I turn into a werewolf? Sounds easy enough."

"Not quite," Skjor said, walking over and taking a sword, before slashing Aela's arm open and pouring her blood into the cauldron in a massive spew-

"Good fucking hell!" Pistoff flailed, "I thought this was rated Casul!"

"Drink the bluud!"

"No, I'm willing to do a lot for excessive force, but lapping demon wolf blood out of an ancient cauldron crosses a line!"

"Would you prefer drinking demon wolf blood out of an ancient cauldron- with a bendy straw?" Skjor offered, producing a nice _craaazy_ pink one in the shape of a laughing clown-

"Yes," Pistoff snapped, snatching it from his hands, "are we not men!?" He sipped the brew, slurping loudly for a little bit before pausing and glancing at Skjor, "I think she might be defective, I don't feel any-_ny-ny-ny omurgragara!_"

* * *

Fires burned, cities crumbled, mountains shook as the insane werewolf rampaged around, devouring and maiming anything in his path and using the power of berserk rage to blow fire from his mouth to vaporize all the annoying children, a godzilla roar escaping him a few times as Aela and Skjor just watched from the hilltop-

"For the record, this was your idea." Aela huffed, trying not to get too turned on as she watched the psychotic androgynous wolf monster rip a guard in half and rage so hard disco lights and rave music starting pouring over Whiterun-

"_Feed the homeless… to the homeless!_" it roared, chasing Brenon down, though he had to be one of the fastest drunks ever at that moment-

"I just wanted a _beer!_" Skjor glanced over, frowning,

"Aela, you might want to go in and get your armor, now that you're not a werewolf?"

"I'm good."

"…"

* * *

Back in Scenic Lordran…

* * *

The former dovahkiin climbed the watchtower, finally discovering the shortcut and flexing his smoldering braincells to try and guess where he'd pop out.

"So long as it isn't too far from the shrine." he wondered aloud, hearing a raspy giggle behind him. The knight stopped, slowly turning and looking through the bars to see- ALL HOLY RAPTOR JESUS ON A BICYCLES WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT UNHOLY THING!?

DSP jammed the button so hard it broke as he tore down the sewers screaming the entire way until he unlocked the gate at the end, flipped it open and kept sprinting all the way to the shrine, collapsing by the fire and panting heavily.

"Proof there is no god- for he would never breathe life into something that ugly." DSP rasped, sure he'd be taking the shortcut but still- _that_. The crestfallen was doing nothing of value, save looking around in a vaguely paranoid manner, holding a wooden paddle with "Fangirl-off" scribbled in sharpie marker.

Bored instantly, the chosen undead took a momentary break to look at the firekeeper, only to see the golden knight Lautrec staring intently at the cell- his demonic rape face hidden under his golden helm as the chosen approached.

"Hey, uh, pal! Paleo? Buddy!" Lautrec looked up from his rest and gave DSP a humanity,

"Thanks for saving me, though I'm afraid I'll have to go soon."

"Why's that?"

"I have to, _take care of_ this fire whore." He chuckled, a dark aura radiating from his being.

"Oh- is that why you have all that humanity?"

"No! Of course- I mean, yes, yes I give it to her to ease her suffering with some soup and tea, isn't that right fire slut!" Anastasia vigorously shook her head, "See, me and fire cunt are the best of friends!" Lautrec declared jovially, the firekeeper holding up a sign inscribed **Redrum! Redrum**! And desperately pointing at it with her free hand.

"I can see that, it's so good to see the people here making friends!" DSP smiled, heading up top with a bounce in his step while Lautrec drew his shotal and gave it a good polishing, "your head here" cheerfully inscribed on the hilt.

* * *

The capra demon boss room, hours later…

* * *

The old goat and his mutts were once again starting forward, pausing when they saw DSP lumber through.

After soul farming all this time, he was a changed scrub:

His knight armor was replaced by Balder Armor, a reinforced Balder shield strapped to his one arm while the mighty Zweihander +5 sat over his over his shoulder, the capra pausing.

"_Wazis now_?"

"_I level ground,"_ he hissed, the dogs charging forward, only for the mighty Zweihander to sweep across and slice them in two simultaneously, its blade making its glorious colossal bang hitting the ground, blowing dust up around the scrub-

The capra ran in, his eyes ablaze at his dogs getting beat up, his machetes crushing down on the Balder shield but lo did the scrub discover the wonders of endurance grinding, the badass black shield knocking the colossal machetes aside, allowing the scrub to fatroll behind the boss and hack at the back of the goat's legs, though the ornry goat demon only got ornrier, his health making DSPs life hard as the humongous stamina drain and slow attack speed weighed the scrub knight down, his _dodge!_ skills still pretty weak.

Finally, DSP did what any aspiring scrub trying to defeat the Kappa demon would do: he ran up the stairs, coaxing the demon up with a few arrows to the face while he hid on the arch.

The capra closed in, but was thwarted by the tree, the goat demon stumbling and falling to the ground-

"_Uah! Oh my back, oh my leg, oh my_-" his meandering stopped when DSP used the height to plunge attack him to death as he had plunge attacked so many others, the boss falling and turning to souls, the scrub collapsing to the ground.

"Yes, I did it, I finally did it." he wept, "it took ten hours, farming balder gear, upping my strength to over 24, buying all that titanite and upping my gear, and losing my zombie virginity for morale support, but at last I killed it and got the key. I don't care what boss I have to fight next, it can't possibly be worse than this one was." (epic foreshadowing is epic)

* * *

The depths of Lordran, the start of your nightmares!

* * *

With his super Zweihander powers, DSP easily oneshot everything in his path, afterall they were just a bunch of deprived newbs anyway, leading him towards the edge of a railing where he spotted-

"What the fuck is that!?" he exclaimed, earning a glare from the crazy butcher below him, though, "Hey, is that mahogany!" he called, spotting the beautiful, hand caved table with romantic candles and several sets of exotic spice he was working at.

"Urr!"

"Wow, all the way form Carim?"

"Ooo, ha."

"that's remarkable, I suppose I have to kill you now but anyways, nice talking to you!"

"Ur!" he replied, waving his knife.

* * *

After fighting the butcher as all manly men would (mostly skirting around the pillar and jabbing at his sides), the new chosen undead came to a set of pots, a pyromancer trapped within,

"Hey, please help me!" he called, "if you do, I will teach you to blow things up with your mind, unless you're not into that sort of thing…"

"No, I'm totally into that," DSP grinned, rolling through the pots and freeing Laurentius

"Thank you!" he sighed, "For a moment, I thought I was going to be her supper."

"Yeah wait, _wait just one fucking moment,_ did you just say 'her' supper!?"

"Well, yes." DSP rammed the button a second time,

"Well fuck this world!" he snapped, "fuck it like it's fucking me!" Laurentius sighed,

"I know how you feel, but at least the butcher twins are no more."

"Yeah wait, _twins_?"

"Yeah, twin sister." The chosen undead felt a heavy breathing down the back of his neck, turning to face the enraged butcher, the little eyeholes in her sack glowing red.

"Fuck… everything."

* * *

Further into the depths…

* * *

"What's with all the fucking _raaaaaaaaaattttttsssss_!"

* * *

Even further into the depths…

* * *

The chosen undead crept along, being extra, extra fucking careful not to fall into any…

DSP fell into the near invisible pit in the floor, dropping through the chutes and cussing profusely until he was shat out the bottom, a sizable chunk of his life getting nommed by the fall damage.

"Hey, I'm alive!" he chortled, drinking his estus, "I thought for sure that was an instant death pit!" he heard a strange croaking, many shapes jumping around the corner and surrounding the undead.

But alas, they didn't attack or defend themselves in anyway, the first going down in a single hit while the others slowly bloated up like big, black scrotum balloons.

"Huh, this game isn't so bad after…" his sentence froze in his throat, along with the rest of him as the sudden ass gas blast blew over him and turned him to rock near instantly.

The chosen undead awoke at the fire and felt rather… brittle, his foot hitting a rock and exploding into bonechips the instant he stepped forward, "You cheeky dickwaffles…"

* * *

A trip to ye' old Oswald's with a soul farming later…

* * *

"Well, there's no way I'm going back into that shit!" The scrub snapped, rounding the corner and going the other way, being extra super duper careful not to fall into another death pit. A sound rose, beginning to fill his ears-

"What is love? Well baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me, no more!" Haddaway called in his beautiful, melodic voice, the former Dovahkiin feeling the sinking feeling of Deja Vu as he crept out and saw his worst fears confirmed:

A figure, to the sound of great techno, was dressed in eccentric blue robes and dancing like crazy with prism stones and rave lights exploding across the room.

A ravelord, with three colossal fatass rats hanging around him, ubercharged with techno of course. Seeing no other option, DSP drew his zweihander,

"Alright let's do this, _Leeeeeeeeroy_-"

* * *

A hundred deaths later…

* * *

The ravelord finally died, the chosen undead heading down the railing to look for goodies, feeling another pained feeling deep in his nether regions as he came close to an item.

"I get the feeling something is going to murder me…."

"_Kyūkyoku no satsugai āto: Shi no shi-bako!_"

"What the-" all the boxes around him instantly exploded, the black mice flying forth with kunais, katanas, and knives of all sizes- stunlocking him in place and ripping him apart instantly, flipping off the banister before DSP even knew what hit him…

"Fucking ninja rats…"

* * *

"I don't trust you…" DSP growled to the orange streak on the ground, the thing reading:

-To go forward you must…

"Fuck you!" DSP snapped, forging ahead. He would never forgive him for the Kappa, besides he was really strong how bad could it-

A shape broadsided his blindspot before he could so much as turn, the former dovahkiin's ribs getting turned to splinters as he was blown off his feet and launched into the wall, crushing the stone with his body.

"What, I don't…" he looked into the face of death itself, his voice dying with all his hopes and dreams of ever beating the game and going home:

A rat over thirty feet long with one eye foggy and the other with an axe shoved into it, pustules of moss, fungus and rot covering his face while his fangs dripped with acidic blood. His head bowed again, his sightless eyes peering into DSP's very soul…

He suddenly blew forward with speed that utterly defied logic, blowing DSP to pieces with one great ram of his diamond hard skull.

* * *

One slippy slide ride later…

* * *

DSP fell into the innermost part of the tunnels, bypassing the basilisks and narrowly outrunning the rat god of death,

"Oh orange streak, my one true friend…" he cried, spotting dozens of messages with "I did it!" proudly inscribed at the base of the slide, "I'm sorry I ever doubted you!"

He came forward, walking innocently along when he spotted another streak"

_-Rapist ahead_

"Oh…" the scrub looked about, "I don't see anyone," he crept forward, a the sound of space being torn roaring out the fatal banner message appeared:

_-Invaded by Dark Spirit Kirk_

"Oh god! Where-" he was silenced by a very thorny, very painful blade was rammed through his back, a dark, thorned finger tracing his lips while deep breathing entered his ears-

"_Shhh- Go to sleep._"

* * *

After losing his humanity and running by Kirk…

* * *

DSP hacked through the rats and several oozlings, the chosen undead comming to a peculiar merchant:

"Mae shiwae!" he greeted happily, "I am Domnell, of Zena, and I'd be happy to do business with you on your trip to Scenic Blighttown!"

"Oh sweet!" DSP nodded back, heading for the big door, "Now all I have to do is spend my souls, get to the second bell and…" he gave the door a yank, but it didn't budge, smashing the handle with the zweihander and kicking it several times, failing to make an impression.

"I'm sorry my friend, but the door has been closed up for ages don't you know, the key's on a body…"

Oh!

"That was swallowed by the Gaping Dragon."

Shit.

"So I have to kill the dragon to get the key?"

"It sure looks that way, but surely you've defeated a dragon before?"

"Yes, of course!" DSP declared, "How could I forget, I'm the best dragonslayer ever, I'll be back in a flash."

"See you soon!" the curious merchant called, waving.

* * *

"Alright, this area looks about right." DSP nodded, stepping into the massive arena, light ominously pouring through the walls with pillars sitting here and there "I don't want to burn a humanity just yet, but it shouldn't be too bad."

He looked around, until he saw a crocodile like head poke over the waterfall with the cutest derp face ever: no horns, snout, or anything.

"Oh that's adorable, you're not even a real dragon!" DSP called. The head begun to rise, the body expanding outward sharply, turning from scales to some kind of maw, then going up and up and up, the chosen leaning back as the colossal, lopsided, six legged body with raggedy wings came scrambling up, the dragon bending back in two to reveal the colossal, toothy vagina of its stomach, the hellish snatch flexing its teeth and flaring out as it roared.

It's boss music, the fantasy equivalent to satancore deathmetal blared forth as the mighty vagina dragon crawled forward with frightful speed on its rear legs while its front legs, with hands and claws that could rip Alduin a literal new asshole, came out in the biggest "come at me bro" gesture in history, the pillars around it crumbling like puny twigs-

DSP stared a moment, nodded- then let up the most purehearted scream of terror imaginable, Marv shedding of tear of pride as the scream stretched on and on, the former Dovahkiin sprinting around the room with the vagina dragon in hot pursuit-

"I'm not interested! I'm not interested!" he screamed, though that didn't deter it from continuing to close in on him. Alas, the attack range of the dragon was too great, its arm sweeping forward and grabbing DSP by the midsection, "Go ahead and crush me, I don't want to be here anyway!" he was pulled higher into the air, the vagina dragon bending in two to place DSP over its maw-

"Oh god I've seen enough hentai to know where this is going! No, I take it back, I take it back! Fuuuuu-" he screamed, falling into the most humiliating death he'd yet encountered.

With many, many, many more lying ahead…

* * *

Meanwhile in Scenic Skyrim…

* * *

The orc, now feeling a belly full of flesh nicely settled in his stomach and the hangover of being really, really fucking drunk, and high (highdrunk?), got up, feeling his balls turning into ice cubes along with the rest of him in the snow.

"What happened?" he sighed, yawning and slowly getting up, or at least he would if Aela wasn't perched on his stomach, staring at him expectantly- "get off!" he snapped, nudging her off and slowly getting up while she righted herself, "How long was I out?"

"Not that long, after you kicked Whiterun in the crotch I baited you down here and you passed out a few minutes ago." She leaned in, "I kept your flesh nice and warm."

"Just tell me why I'm here?" he mumbled, getting his armor back on and hoping he wouldn't wake up after any other crazy excursions (epic foreshadowing, maybe?)

"I brought you here to celebrate your first night of being a werewolf."

"So?"

"We're here to brutally murder a fort full of werewolf hunters."

"Oh fuck yeah!" the former chosen undead reared, feeling his stamina return, "You may be a bunch of casuals, but at least you know all the right buttons to push."

"Oh, say that again!"

"Can't hear you, murder time!"

* * *

One murder later…

* * *

"So, you're Krev the skinner?" The orc growled, raising an eyebrow,

"Yes," the androgynous hermaphrodite hissed, her clothes indicating it was more of a her today, "Now, you will be skinned!"

"Yup, I'm terrified." Pistoff sighed, bored to tears.

"Are you making light of me, I am Krev, one of the greatest werewolf hunters in all of-"

"Hey, guess what?"

"Don't you interrupt, huff, alright what?"

Narrator: _and in their tongue he is called Dovahkiin, Dragonborn!_

"FUS RO DAH!" Krev was launched across the room, impaling on a bunch of pikes on the wall by her victims.

*Flawless victory, fatality!*

But woe to the group, for they came across the mangled body of Skjor.

"Skjor, he was a true nord, let us take a moment to what are you doing?"

"What?" Pistoff replied innocently, the wolf pants already stripped off, "Looting dead things is what I do, not my fault his armor looks badass." Aela facepalmed as the new Dovahkiin finished transferring the armor and clumsily tossed the naked body onto a dead silver hand, snickering at the cleaver pose and running off.

* * *

"Sir, I bring you ill tidings…"

"Let me guess," Kodlak sighed, "Skjor is dead?"

"Yes, how did you know?"

"You're wearing his armor, plus Aela sent it on Instagram…" he added, getting his I-Phone out and displaying the picture of Aela taking a slefie with the bodies in the background, "Just make sure nothing like this happens again, alright?" he asked, closing out.

"Yes."

"You're serious?"

"Dead serious."

"I'm going to leave you unattended, and you're going to just do odd jobs and collect the shards of Wuuthrad, no more hunting silver hands or dangerous things?"

"I will absolutely do that."

"Alright." Kodlak nodded, leaving as Aela came out,

"So, we're still going to use that map to find and kill every Silver Hand in Skyrim?"

"Oh, we're going to kill the fuck out them."

* * *

And so the Silver Hand strongholds were systematically found and destroyed, one by one, until they were all gone and the shards of Wuuthrad were found…

* * *

The new dovahkiin swaggered on up the stairs,

"Alright, I'm back…" he paused, seeing the great littering of dead bodies all over the place, "Um, did I miss something?"

"Yes," Vilkas said mournfully, "a dark day has come to the land. Some idiot couldn't stop murdering Silver Hands left and right, so they got pissed off and zerg rushed the compound, there were no casualties…"

"Well that's great news!"

"Except for Kodlak."

"Oh…" Pistoff sighed, "that's a shame, but at least I have the last shard of Wuuthrad, so we may use the axe to inspire our soldiers."

"Yeah, about that," Vilkas sighed, "We don't actually have it, they stole them."

"They what?" Pistoff twitched, remembering the hours and hours he's spent running around collecting them…

"They stole them…"

Stole them.

_-Stole them all-_

* * *

The Silver Hands were sharing a spot of tea, reading the morning paper and chatting casually,

"So I said: you want to keep the shards_, then you can die!_"

"Quite, quite!" they chuckled, when suddenly a roar rose over the hill-

_**You sons of bithces when I I find you you will not even want to tknow what I dwill do to you you hear me your bead men death the word sinth English language will not bec enoguht to descried what wil happen to your corpses you sons of bitches-**_

"That sounds like a rather angry and illogical voice…"

"Yes, yes…" the other one shifted, "I, um, we were told to kill the most dangerous companion were we not…"

"Yes, that's why we went after the harbinger of the companions."

"Er," the other said, producing a scroll, "Does the harbinger happen to look like this guy?" On the page was a fiery orc with demon horns and bright red eyes, below written:

Pistoff: dangerous sociopathic, genocidal, egotistical, megalomaniacal mass murderer, wanted dead only. Extremely dangerous, exercise extreme caution. Reward 90,000 septims

"Oh, he didn't look like that at'all." the concrete wall exploded away, revealing an extremely angry orc,

"Judgment day punk motherfuckers!" both silver hands let up girly screams before they were ripped apart in the most excessive way possible.

* * *

Pistoff returned in time to give the shards of Wuuthrad to Eorlund before the funeral held in skyforge, as the brave and noble Kodlak would have wanted. Even the Jarl was in attendance, the body left to the fires so the vapors may trail all the way to Sovengarde.

Kodlak smelled something burning, his eyes opening,

_Herm, the last thing I remember was sampling that Daedra heart, what is that smell oh that's me, wait, oh dear, oh gods!_

Pistoff scratched his head and turned to Vilkas,

"Hey, do you hear something?"

"Tis the spirits come to convey Kodlak to the afterlife."

"Oh."

* * *

Das uber- er- Die Unterforge (I speak german so goodly :D )

* * *

The inner circle, and Pistoff, and Aela, stood around the dark, now empty cauldron, wondering what to do.

"It appears there is but one task left." Vilkas said, "We need to chop off the head of one of the Glenmorel witches, then cast it into the fire to purify Kodlak's soul in the tomb of Ysgramor, so his soul may go to Sovengarde rather than be trapped in Hircine's realm. Twill be a dangerous…"

"Me." Pistoff cut in, "I do everything around here and I'm the only that actively loves to kill things, so let's just cut the suspense and send me out." They all stared in awe, as though he'd shown them the very tit of Gwynevere, "What?"

"How did you know, are you some kind of a psychic?" Pistoff's palm hit the face, when suddenly a blinding light came through the door,

"The fires of Skyforge have made Wuuthrad whole again, so you may go into the tomb, as well as vanquish your adversaries. Use it with pride," Eorlund then bequeathed the super killing weapon unto Pistoff, the double bladed, jet black blade looking killer, and feeling killerer…

"Yes, now let's go!"

* * *

Glenmorl coven…

* * *

The hagraven faced Pistoff down, an awkward moment passing before she finally threw her arms up,

"Well, aren't you going to say something? I'm one of the most hideous and powerful enemies in Skyrim-" she stopped as Pistoff cut her off with laughter, her wrinkly, feathered form fluffing up as he retorted:

"Hideous? Powerful? You don't know the meaning of the word!" he then drew a parchment from his pocket, handing it to her.

"Oh please, what could you possibly have-" she froze, gazing on the image and freezing, shaking and trembling as it glowed, "What cruel mind could have breathed life into this, away, _awaayyyyaaa_-" The "Hag" raven then did a perfect re-enactment of the Nazis in the Ark of the Covenant.

What did she see? Well I'll leave that to your imaginations though you're free to leave a review ;3

* * *

Ysgramor's tomb, armed with ye' old bag of heads…

* * *

The door came open when Pistoff activated the Neat-o contraption with the axe, Farkas and Aela helping to accompany him on his dangerous quest though the tombs, though they hit a few snags since well, they were Casuls.

At the end of the way, with Pistoff once again alone, the former chosen undead came up to Kodlak, standing by the fires to chase away Hircine. It was really kawaii

"Hai," Kodlak nodded, "Now, cast head into fire, to draw out inner beast. When you vanquish it, I wir be at peace, do you have bravery to accept such dangerous task." Pistoff put an ambiguously gay hand on his shoulder,

"Kodlaku, Genkai De." He threw the head into the fire, Kodlak's blue spirit convulsing as it expelled his inner demon spirit, Pistoff writhing inside. Even his time through the nightmare fueled land of Lordran could not prepare him for the beast before him-

"It's Britney bitch." It growled, the anemic, bald Gollum creature hobbling towards him,

"For Narnia!" Pistoff sprang into action with a judo kick to the chest, her bosom absorbing the impact and reflecting the orc from it, the Gollum creature consuming its own fiendish alchamental brew and gaining extreme power, blasting up to the former chosen undead and kicking him across the room, his bones breaking as he rammed into the wall and sent exploded smithereens across the way.

He emerged from the ashes, but alas Britney Speres was too fast for him, intercepting and drop kicking him into the floor, exploding the ground and sending a shockwave through the tomb, a few stalactites falling from the ceiling as Pistoff bounced away-

Kodlak watched as Britney rammed the ground and sprinted in, Pistoff's eyes flashing with berserk rage, but alas it was not enough to save him all the way, his elbow coming up and blocking her right hook, The Orc's feet driving trenches into the ground as Pistoff skid away, but Britney still surged forward and caught him with a right hook, which catapulted the orc from his feet and kicked up the dust as he blew through a column and hit the wall, once again buried under the rubble while Brittney spammed her Elixir of Beer.

_Is it possible, he was not ready for this level of challenge?_ Kodlak thought to himself, when suddenly the rubble was blown across to the room, the former chosen undead raising his foot again and slamming it into the ground, the explosion of energy manifesting as a colossal energy arch that roared through the tomb and carved a trench in the ground, slicing through several pillars.

Britney dodged the brunt of the blast, only for the chosen undead to come down from the sky and smash the ground with his heel, a net of eight waves flying from the axis accompanied by a gigantic explosion from his core, knocking Britney across the room.

"What the _hail_ man!" she drawled, Pistoff crunching his fist and striking a pose,

"Dragon style: Dragon Greatsword" he recited before punching the ground and unleashing another huge energy wave, sending her scattering as the wave tore a sarcophagus to pieces.

"That was my grandma!" a ghost shouted from somewhere,

But alas, he could only suspend reality so long as it was amusing to the universe master, he had to finish this soon lest it become boring!

Pistoff ran in and drew Wuuthrad, Britney Speres drawing a magic greatsword of her own and clashing blades with the chosen undead, the two tearing back and forth across the tomb, until finally the chosen got a good kick into the stomach to stagger the beast, his berserk rage fading just as he cast his finish sign-

"YOL TOR SHUUL!" He screamed, a nuclear WTFboooouahhhh fireblast erupting from his lips and blowing her to pieces -insert Panty and Stocking Claymation scene here-

The former chosen undead landed on the ground, looking at the scorched earth, "Well shit, why didn't I just use that?" The beast slain, Kodlak staggered up in awe

"That, made no fucking sense where did you learn to rape the canon like that?"

"Kung Fu Hustle for the physics, My Immortal for the canon rape. It was a crazy night." He shrugged.

"Well we are fortunate indeed to have you," he nodded, "I guess you are the new leader of the companions."

"Wait, so I'm the master now?"

"Why yes, do enough chores and you own the place. It's a strange system, but it works." Pistoff smiled, then cackled, then diabolical laughed, though the Casuls were still bright-eyed and Naïve enough to believe things would still be the same with him in charge.

His rule wouldn't bad per say, just a little different…

* * *

The depths of hell- er- Lordran…

* * *

The luminous golden sign erupted as the great Sunbro Solaire himself emerged, bearing his arms aloft in that legendary gesture we all know and love,

"Alright, who's ready for some Jolly co-operation!" he called, looking about and catching no-one in sight, "Hmm, that's odd…"

Something slammed into his shoulder, the Sunbro looking to the shape and finding DSP clinging to his arm, his eyes wide and bloodshot, his hair completely messed up and sprawling around his helmet, his breathing deep and forced as he shifted up and down, his armor creaking as it was in terrible repair and coated with a combination of spindle and blood…

"SoLair3 I _FoUnd_ u!" he cackled, Solaire backing off him a bit.

"Are you okay my good sir?"

"oKaY? I aM FinE PeRFEct, I JuSt NeED a teEnTiNy bIt- Bite- bitten- vored, voring, vore dragon!" he snapped, laughing some more as blood dripped from his eyes, Solaire getting the emergency stick, "I JuSt NeEd HeLP fiGhTinG tHE bIG ScARy dRAgoN, the big scary dragon!" he snapped, eyeing Solaire, "You _think _I'm crazy- don't you? You think- the stress has _finally_ gotten- to me and now I've gone and lost ma' marbles! Well_ I _haven't- they are _here _see!" He growled, pouring tons of eyes of death farmed form the Basilisks on the ground, going stiff and focusing on Solaire, "_You're not perfect-_"

Solaire smashed him over the head with the great emergency stick, carved from the very Archtrees with a Godlike S strength scale (that means +15 bitch), Two Steps From Hell- Protectors of the Earth emanating from the walls as the sunbro shook him-

"Pull yourself together my intrepid friend!" he cried out, "do not let the nightmare inducing terror get under your skin, you just need to praise the sun and git gud!"

"Git gud?"

"Yes, it is the art of taking your frustration and turning it into skill to tackle frustrating challenges, resulting in an infinite loop until you are so powerful you will surmount that challenge!" The former dragonborn shied away,

"But I don't want to git gud, I want to…" Solaire rammed him upside the head once more, taking a more assertive tone, "You will git gud, and you will like it! For one can only praise the sun when they have seen true darkness."

"Wow, that was deep man." The scrub nodded, gathering his will.

"Why, thank you! Now let's just see how scary this boss really is before our Jolly Co-operation!" Solaire declared, emerging through the fog with the scrub in tow, viewing the Vagina Dragon before him as it slavered and spewed sewage everywhere.

"We may need additional assistance." He gulped, getting out his Cellphone soapstone and calling across the dimensions, "Hey we have a class 6, I repeat class 6! We need immediate sunbr0 assistance right away!"

The answer to their prayers came in the form of a massive explosion from the walls, a beast radiating the force of a thousand slain Darkwraiths stepping out in the witch's Armor with a Moonlight Greatsword over one shoulder and a strange, curved catalyst that could only be the Manus Catalyst in the offhand with a set of chunky rings that spelled out "NG+ 3 Klub"

_-Summoned Phantom S1ay3rofDark777_

He cracked his neck, gazing upon the Gaping Dragon with mild amusement…

"This shit again? Bitch please." He scowled, shaking his head, "Chill the fuck down, I got this shit."

The vagina dragon surged forth, cocking his arm back and preparing a massive bitch slap,

"Gaping dragon, more like- _dark bead_" a power unholy strong enough to make all balanced, non-cheap builds vomit blood blew forth from his catalyst, the beads hitting his scales and blowing the dragon off his feet and across the room, "Gaping _faggot_." The dragon landed against the walls, the noble and experienced sunbr0 gazing over his shoulder, "You coming with, n00bs, or shall my pure intelligence build carry the day by itself?"

The presence of the experienced summon invigorated the two frightened beings, their forms charging into battle against the pissed off dragon. Solaire threw great bolts of sunlight, DSP returning to the mighty n00bsword and launching blades of force from afar while the sunbr0 chomped a great hunk of green blossom and launched a blitzkrieg of two handed moonlight blade attacks, switching to dark pursuer whenever his stamina ran low…

"Just stay away from the legs when it moves, he can't turn for shit and has no range to speak of!" he commanded, the two nodding and outmaneuvering the beast, the thing bending and launching into the air, "Watch out for the telegraphed body slam!" he roared, rolling his eyes as they all ran from the Vagina Dragon slam.

_I remember when I was a scrub_- he thought to himself, almost enjoying the brief moment of nostalgia, back when this shit was hard on NG. It almost brought a tear to his eye, but alas, his reminiscing was cut short by the pissed off Vagina Dragon coming back around for round two (or in DSP's case round 604).

The sunbr0s finished the fight effortlessly, the experienced player drawing back and pointing to the wounded dragon,

"Snip the tail mate, embrace your scrub destiny!" he called, the former dovahkiin charging the beast and ramming his n00bsword through the tail, severing it before the dragon died and took the fabled Dragon King Greataxe with its "What the fuck is this shit mate?" damage with him.

The dragon died, DSP falling to the ground and raising his arms to the sky, letting up a victory yowl of supreme joy.

"Yes! Yes, I finally don't have to fight this thing anymore!" DSP cried (literally, like a baby separated from a tit), "I love you guys, I love you guys so much!"

The sunbr0 nodded, disappearing back to his world while Solaire praised the sun leaking through the cracks in the cave,

"See, nothing is impossible when you praise the sun and have Jolly Co-operation on your side!" he smiled, "Although, connections are a little iffy, so you will still have many tough fights ahead of you!"

"Yeah," DSP growled, rolling his eyes, "Wouldn't want it to get too easy now would I?"

"That's the spirit! I'll tell all my bros to leave you be since you've embraced the gud!"

"Wait no I was being sarcastic! I was being sarcastic!" he cried, though Solaire was already gone. DSP moaned with unbridled agony, "Well, I guess it's off to Blighttown, how bad it I possibly be?"

* * *

Why yes, how bad could it be? A lot of moments were a bit forced, the humor just didn't come to me like it did with the other chapters, but I have tons of material planned ahead, how did I do? Please leave an honest review and be patient while I compile another edition to this shitpile of nonsense :3


	6. Closing

Hello Readers. I'm glad you've stuck with this fiction for so long, and it may yet live. But, the next update will take an eternity if it comes at all. I simply do not enjoy writing this fic as I did before.

But, I won't let that deprive you of the tournament of lunacy, voted on by you the people like I promised.

I just published it as a second fic for you to enjoy, I will install each round as quick as I can until it is done, thank you all for your patience :3


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